


How Foggy was Stolen By Those No Good, Backstabbing Avengers

by Daryl_Alenko



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: All Hail Foggy, Fluff and Crack, Foggy Nelson Is a Good Bro, Jealous Matt Murdock, M/M, bro dates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-08-01 07:26:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 42,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16280243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daryl_Alenko/pseuds/Daryl_Alenko
Summary: The title says it all, really.After Foggy gets onto Matt for fighting alone, be brings home the Avengers. Then promptly regrets it when they realize just how awesome Foggy is and start taking up his time.





	1. Introducing Team Snark

It starts like this ...

Foggy is PISSED. All capitals, because this is a screaming inside your head moment. Because Matt is so bloodied and broken again, that he isn't coherent. He had spent ten minutes calling out for Foggy despite the fact that his best friend was RIGHT THERE holding his blood caked hand. 

Yup, definitely a lot of capitals for this situation.

Claire had spent far too much of that time in stony silence with her jaw clenched shut. Foggy didn't really blame her. Because if you didn't clench hard enough, don't hold it in, all this hurt that came with seeing Matt broken, everything would become a super sonic scream of pain that might actually shatter the world.

And the thing is ... while it is so damn easy to love Matt Murdock ... it's just as easy to hate him sometimes, too.

Foggy sits in the same spot he had occupied when he first found out Matt was The Devil of Hell's Kitchen. And he's just as pissed as he was then. Matt is terrified that Foggy is going to leave again just as they've finally reclaimed their equilibrium and can call each other best friends.

Foggy had reluctantly let Matt's hand go when Claire began patching him up. They both feel untethered without that connection.

He watches as Matt absently plucks at the material of his sweatpants against his thigh. 

He remembers that action ... how Matt had plucked and pulled at the same spot on the same pair, right before Foggy had tried to walk out of his life for his betrayal. Its not that hard to imagine what's going through the martyr's mind.

"Take a deep breath, Matty. I'm not going anywhere, buddy." Despite how pissed he is, he means it. Foggy has no intention of leaving Matt. They are still best friends despite everything .. he honestly doesn't see that changing.

"That's everything. Just .. I know it's pointless saying this, but you should be more careful, Matt." Foggy and Matt both flinch ever so slightly at Claire's words because of course it's pointless to say. "I'm .. this is going to be the last time, Matt. I'm through with this." 

In some ways, Foggy was glad that Matt couldn't fully perceive Claire walking away. Too many people had done that, himself included. And despite his reassuring words, a part of him -does- want to turn and run, not walk, away. Because he will never be anything akin to the man without fear, to the Devil of Hell's Kitchen and he -knows- what comes from following the Devil. There are entire passages in the Bible about it, after all.

He watches Claire leave and cannot bring himself to look elsewhere even after she's long gone because he's afraid. Terrified. He cannot fathom looking at Matt when he's more gauze than unbroken skin. That way lay a madness he may never recover from.

"F-Foggy ..." After all these years, Matt is the only one capable of making his name sound beautiful and ugly at the same time. 

"No. Just ... just no, Matt. Four wounds that needed stitches... a dislocated shoulder ... and a sprained wrist." Each injury ricochets through the room like a shotgun blast and leaves Foggy reeling. He may have been hasty in saying he wasn't leaving. A strategic retreat may be his best bet at saving the ruins of their friendship. 

Honestly, how can you love and loathe someone in such equal measure? Well, okay, he doesn't actually -loathe- Matt. He KNOWS that. He's just scared and fucked up because his best friend is hurt and has no intention of being careful in the future. 

Slowly, carefully, he forces himself to look at Matt. Forces his eyes to travel the path of desolation across his bare torso and legs, hissing in pain that is not his own. And yet ... and yet, it is. It REALLY is because Matt is his best friend, the person he is closest to and when Matt is a landscape of pain, his own body aches with it. 

He is Matt's portrait of Dorian Gray. Not the best comparison, but how Foggy is feeling none the less.

"I meant what I said, buddy. I'm not leaving. I.. you ..." He growls in frustration as he struggles to order his thoughts and make them known. 

"You're going to take the meds Claire left. You're going to fall asleep on the couch and when you wake up, I'm not going to be here. Don't argue with me, Matt. God, I just .. I can't keep doing this. I get that you need this. You NEED to go out there and help and I'm actually really fucking -proud- of that. But you also need to use some common fucking sense, Matty, and find someone who can help you when you're out numbered that damn badly. Please. I don't... I don't think I can take many more nights like this, man."   
Foggy's breath stutters even as Matt takes a shuddering one, painfully deep and suspiciously wet sounding.

"I don't... I'm not ... _Foggy_ .." Matt gasps, hand moving to press at the curve of his side, digging gingerly into a bandage there. "I don't go out there -trying- to get hurt, Fog. I try to be careful."

"No you don't, Murdock. Just .. do me the honor of not lying, okay? That's not too much to ask for, Matty. Not after everything. No more lying and please just be careful. Get some help of some kind. I mean .. God, if I could do 1/10th of what you do, I'd probably be out there trying to help you." Matt is up, off his couch in a heartbeat, trembling from head to toe as he stumbles toward Foggy. Who meets him halfway, long fingers wrapping tightly around Matt's biceps, squeezing gently in reassurance.

"No way in -HELL-, Foggy. I don't care if you had a powersuit like Stark or could fight 100 times better than me, there's no way in hell you would be out in those streets! I don't care if I would have to chain you to my damn bed, you would remain somewhere SAFE! I -need- you to be safe, Fog. I just .. I need .. Fuck! _Please_ , Foggy." Foggy begins to rub slow, soothing circles into Matt's bare biceps with his thumbs, smiling. Or well, grimacing, probably. There's too much tooth and negative emotion to quantify it as anything good like an actual smile.

"Yeah ... now you know how I feel, buddy. Don't worry, I'm not going to go running off in the middle of the night to save anyone." A punched-out laugh rattles from Matt's mouth as he leans forward to press their foreheads together.

"That's bullshit and we both know it, Fog. You just won't do it with a mask on." Foggy snorts but doesn't feel like arguing. (Mostly becaue he knows that he would lose this one. Ms. Cardenas and Karen are prime examples of just how quickly he does that exact thing.)

"Yeah, yeah. Come on, buddy ... meds then sleep, Matty."

* * *

A week later, Foggy is sitting on the edge of his couch, mangling his remote as he watches a newscaster explain the newest threat on a local station. 

A group of humanoid insect robots are tearing a path through Hell's Kitchen. Foggy may or may not have thrown up twice. 

(Trick statement ... it's been three times.) 

He cannot envision a way in which Matt is surviving this chaos without the kind of injuries that are going to tear this heart up and give him graphic nightmares of Matt dying a hundred deaths in thousands of painful ways.

He has just leapt to his feet and begun to pace back and forth when there's a loud banging against his door. He tosses his remote to the couch and rushes to it, yanking it open so hard that his wrist wrenches.

He had not had any real expectations for who might be on the other side of the door. Even If he had, he's pretty sure that it wouldn't have been an expectation of the entire Avengers line-up. With the Devil of Hell's Kitchen clutched between Captain America and the Winter Soldier.

"On the couch. Now" Foggy's voice hits his no nonsense register that he uses in court and he is only a little surprised when they all pour in, Matt immediately being eased onto the couch. "Right then. Anyone needing medical attention, into the kitchen. Hulk, if you break anything, I'm taking payment out in the form of getting to harass you in your labs. Just so you know." There is utter silence for about half a minute before everyone begins moving. 

Captain America moves to the window, The Winter Soldier , Hawkeye, and Tony Stark head into the kitchen. Hulk huffs and growls before falling flat on his ass against the side of the couch. 

Black Widow and Thor settle gingerly in chairs and with a huff, Foggy heads into his bedroom. He emerges three minutes later with an arm full of clothing. 

"Here. It's not much, but it's better than tacky, uncomfortable things. There's a shower with surprisingly good pressure and a hell of a lot of hot water." He doesn't pause to hear their reactions, just places the clothes on the back of his chair before he walks over to Hulk. He doesn't hesitate, doesn't stop to wonder if the massive creature might consider him a threat. He drops a Columbia hoodie and a pair of comfortable cotton pants on the floor in front of him. They are old, threadbare, and the most comfortable things a person could ever wear.

"Here you go, big guy. Once you change back, these are about as comfortable as anything could ever be. They're my favorites. Even my best friend doesn't get to wear them." He glances at the couch where Matt is unconscious. His friend had done everything in his power to get to wear them. Everything from make demands to whine and beg. He had even tried the handsome wounded duck and puppy eyes. Foggy was immune to it all. Hulk grunts as Foggy pats his shoulder and then heads for the kitchen.

Once inside, he moves for his cupboards and pulls out a high dollar bottle of scotch. It had been a present from his parents and he has barely touched it. He grabs down a glass and pours a generous portion before he hands it to Tony wordlessly then turns to do a quick survey of the others.

"Right then. Handsome wounded duck redux, you're first." The fact that Hawkeye understands what that means is both amusing and a little frightening.

"You're handling this really well." The Winter Soldier's observation is dry, without inflection. Foggy spares him a glance as he disinfects a cut on Hawkeye's arm.

"Sure, for now. Once this is all sorted, Imma freak the fuck out, though." He half shrugs his shoulder as he works. "Freakin out won't help the situation any. There are things that need to be done so I'll do them. If you reach for that bottle, Stark, Imma take the Winter Soldier's metal arm and beat you around the head with it. Just sayin." Stark jerks in surprise, pouting even as the other two snicker.

"Calm down, Nelson. I can buy you another bottle. Hell, a better bottle." Stark wrinkles his nose and moves for it again. Foggy actually steps in the Soldier's direction, causing the billionaire to yelp and backpedal. It also causes Hawkeye and The Soldier to gape in surprise.

"That was a gift from my parents to me and Matt to celebrate opening our firm. You had a glass to calm you down. Now stay out of it." He steps back to Hawkeye, finishing his work.

"Alright alright, I can respect that. Eesh." Foggy just barely manages not to roll his eyes at the dramatic man. Had he not been friends with Matt for the past 10 years, he may have reacted differently. But his friend is way overly dramatic so he's kinda used to it. 

(There are a few other things he's pretty sure Stark and Murdock have in common but he doesn't want to think about that. Especially not the part where they are probably both used to getting any beautiful woman they want.)

"Thank you, Mr. Stark. Okay, you're done, redux. There's clothes in the living room if you want something clean." He throws away the trash and moves to set up his coffee maker and get it started.

"Thanks, Mr. Nelson. You're good people, dude." He spares Hawkeye a grin when he pats him on the back before heading to the living room. 

"No problem, man. Right. You're up next, cutie." He drawls the words out and actually startles and then laughs in surprise when both Stark and the Soldier start forward before glaring at each other.

"Hey. He -clearly- meant me, tinlimb." Stark's snark makes Foggy roll his eyes goodnaturedly. 

"He said cute. You don't qualify." Foggy snorts and shakes his head, running a hand through his hair when they both look at him expectantly.

"I was, in fact, talking to the cute Soldier Boy, Mr. Stark. Not to say that you're not cute too but that would totally be entering sugar daddy territory and I'm just not that kinda girl, man." Stark let's out a surprised but happy laugh and the Soldier is grinning but also blushing deeply at the confirmation of being cute.

"Oh, I like you, Nelson. If you ever change your mind, I've got plenty of sugar." He smirks as he watches the billionaire wink and then head for the coffee pot.

"I have no sugar ... but I can open jars like nobodies business" Foggy blinks in surprise at the deadpan words and then throws his head back and gives a boisterous, full bellied laugh.

"Oh my God. Yes. Just all of the yeses to the deadpan sass, cutie." Foggy winks at the Soldier before he begins to bandage him. Damn it, why can't Matt ever show up in this good of condition? He just barely manages not to wince as he thinks about the best friend he almost never sees anymore. Not outside of work, anyway. 

"Are you alright, Mr. Nelson?" The Soldier's voice is so soft and for the first time it is colored with the barest hint of emotion. Concern. He manages a tired smile.

"I will be, man. Thanks." He glances up in just enough time to see that both men seem surprised by his honesty. "Alright. You're done, cutie. Same as the duck. Clothes in the living room if you need it." The soldier reaches out just as Hawkeye did but with hesitation before he places his palm as lightly on Foggy's shoulder as he can before wandering out of the kitchen.

"Ohh, my turn. Be gentle, Mr. Nelson. My safe word-"

"Lemme guess it's either coffee or science, bitches. I'm leaning toward the second." Tony squawks indignantly while Foggy smirks.

"How the hell do you know that??" Snickering, he shrugs his shoulder and gets to work. Luckily, Tony only has a few superficial scrapes and is soon being ushered out of the kitchen.

Foggy sags against his counter for a moment taking deep, shuddering breaths before he grabs a mess of mugs and fills them with coffee. Sugar, cream, and milk are loaded onto a tray and he carries it all out and sets it on his coffee table.

He barely manages not to drop it all and make a fool of himself when he sees the complete array of beautiful superheroes wearing his clothes while they mill about his living room.

In fact, the only one not dressed in Foggy's clothing is Matt and that's odd and surreal, but not really something to think about right now.

"So. Coffee, if anyone wants it." He hesitantly states the obvious before waking to the couch and slipping behind it. With infinite care, he checks Matt over for a head injury, well aware that everyone is pretending to be occupied while watching closely.

"I'm not taking his cowl off, so you all can just stop. His identity is his own business. Just ... think of this place as a safe zone, okay?" He is so focused on Matt that he misses the thoughtful expression each Avenger gets. Once he's sure his friend is alright, he walks into his room and comes back out with a well worn fleece blanket that he drapes across him before turning his attention back toward the superheroes.

"So. First off, I want to thank you all. That fight couldn't have been easy and I have a feeling you're not thanked enough for everything you do." He shifts uncomfortably, unable to really look any of them in the eye at his awkward words. "I also want to thank you for helping my friend. For getting him back here. But I also want to apologize on his behalf for any stupidity he might have shown because stubborn idiot is basically his default setting." 

"Hey! That's slandering an injuried man, Foggy." He smirks and doesn't bother glancing at the couch.

"It's only slander if it isn't true and there's loads of empirical data to back me up, jerkface." Foggy turns and moves back to the couch, Captain America's laughter trailing after him.

"You knew he was awake." It wasn't a question, but Foggy still nods in agreement.

"Of course I did. You don't have a head wound, so that's an improvement. You're going to take something for the headache I know you have. And then you are going to crash in my room. If you even -think- about arguing, Imma have redux and cutie hold you down and I will forcefeed you if I have to. Are we clear?" Behind him, he's aware of The Soldier and Hawkeye standing at the ready. Huh. He hadn't actually expected them to cooperate. Good to know.

Meanwhile, Matt seems to have zeroed in on Bruce and is now frowning in his perplexed puppy way.

"Hey .. why does he get to wear The Pajamas, Foggy? I never get to wear them." Bruce seems to fold in on himself a little. 

"Oh Boo, I'm gonna give you the list, m'kay? First, he is a guest while you are a pain in my ass. Second, he's Dr. Bruce Banner and you are not. Thirdly, he has tossed that asshat Loki around like a ragdoll and that alone deserves everything after what that fucker caused in Hell's Kitchen. And lastly, my little Devil, he gets 'em cause I said so, Boo. Any questions?" 

Matt splutters indignantly moments before the rest of the room erupt into bubbling fits if laughter. All except Bruce who has latched tightly onto the hem of Foggy's shirt. He can feel the man trembling but he doesn't draw attention to it. Just let's him take whatever comfort he needs.

"Yeah, we're clear, Fog. I see how it is, buddy." Matt sniffs softly, imperceptibly save for the fact that Foggy knows him well enough to hear it.

"Good boy. So, the fact that I have a collection of the hottest people on the -planet- in my living room, I'm assuming you -finally- took my advice and accepted help. Thank you." He blinks in confusion when his words are met by splutters, gasps, and other various sounds of surprised pleasure. When he looks over his shoulder, half the superheroes are blushing but they all look happy as well. Having no idea what that's about, he walks into the kitchen and returns with a bottle of water. He hands it and meds off to his friend.

"Feel free to make yourselves at home and rest as long as you need to. There are extra pillows and stuff in the linen closet in the bathroom. Now, if you'll excuse us, I need to go strip the Devil of his fetishware."

"FOGGY!!" He playfully flutters his lashes in Matt's direction, knowing he can't see the movement but can hear it.

"Oh calm down, Devil Boi. You know you can't get out of that ridiculous thing on your own at the moment and they are well aware that you are -way- out of my league so chill out. Good night, everyone." He grabs Matt by the shoulder and hauls him to his room, failing to realize that everyone had gone still and silent at his words.

"I meant it, Matty. Thanks for asking for help." Soon they are curled up on opposite sides off  the bed, falling easily into sleep.

* * *

Foggy is in no way surprised to find his apartment completely empty the next morning. Even Matt having left. He is, however, surprised to find that all of his borrowed clothes are missing.


	2. Within Temptation (Steve)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh. My. God. So, I originally had around 2000 words planned for this chapter but Captain America suddenly developed deep seated feels for Foggy and him and Matt had to become pseudo-friends and suddenly this chapter is almost 7500 words 
> 
> Also.
> 
> I regret -nothing-.

Somehow, over the next few days, Foggy manages to forget having had the Avengers in his apartment. As if all that pretty capability should be so easy to push to the back burner. 

But, when he finds himself working 13 hour days and slaving over books and stacks of paper, a lot of things are forgotten. But in those few days, he settled three different cases out of court and two of them even managed to pay rather well. 

(Despite the actual paycheck, he finds that he's just happy he was able to help.)

Finally, he finds himself with a day off. All three of them are off, in fact. A well deserved breath of fresh air before getting back to it.

So imagine his surprise when his first day off in forever starts at 8 in the morning rather than the 11 he had an alarm set for. He jerks awake with a groan and a shout of COMING as he tosses his blanket to the side and crawls out of bed. He snatches his black bathrobe and quickly ties it around himself as he hobbles and wobbles to answer his door.

When he manages to lick his lips and pry his sleep heavy eyes open, he realizes that he's standing across from one Steve Rogers ... .aka Captain America ... aka the superhero he idolized most of his life.

Said superhero is staring at him with wide, surprised eyes and a blush high on his cheeks. 

"G-Good morning, Mr. Nelson. I'm sorry for dropping by unannounced. May I.. Uhm, could I come in?" Foggy stumbles to the side, just barely managing to let go of his robe long enough to indicate for Rogers to enter.

"No reason to apologize, Captain Rogers. How can I help you on this fine morning?" Once his door is closed, he quickly runs his fingers through his hair and turns to face the Captain. Who is still blushing steadily as he shifts awkwardly from foot to foot.

"Well, I wanted to return your clothes, for starters. Thanks, for everything you did for us that night. We really weren't expecting your hospitality, Mr. Nelson. We assumed we'd drop your friend off and be on our way. But you patched us up, gave us clean clothes, coffee and a place to breathe for a bit. I can't really thank you enough. But I'm hoping you'll let me start by making you breakfast.." His blushing seems to have redoubled as he speaks, a red and white trainer scuffing across his floor in a sexily adorable 'boy nextdoor' way that does all kinds of things to Foggy's heart. Things previously reserved for Matt Murdock related actions only. 

"Wow. I mean.. Steve Rogers wants to make me breakfast. Sure, I'd rather it be because you want to and not because you're paying me back for doing what anyone else would do ... but I will totally take it. Give me a few to get woken up, Captain Rogers." He glances over in just enough time to see Rogers sporting an odd expression stuck somewhere between disbelieving awe and confusion. While still blushing. Foggy really wishes he knew -why- the man was blushing so much.

(The first blush was because of how adorable Foggy looked when he opened the door. The threadbare, comfortable robe hid very little. Accompanied with the sleep rumpled hair and the cozy warmth exuded from him and Steve momentarily forgot how to breathe.

The second blush, obviously, was because he so forwardly invited himself to breakfast with the adorable man.

And the last .. is just because _Foggy_. The fact that the man truly believed everyone would've offered first aid, their favorite clothes and their apartment .. he blushes that third time because he realizes how remarkable Foggy is and he maybe wants to do something embarrassing like sniff his hair or kiss his adorable face. He's really not sure which. Though he suspects both.)

"I want to! Mr. Nelson. Really. I want to. Cook for you." Rogers clears his throat awkwardly and hurries into the kitchen, leaving Foggy amused and confused.

* * *

Once Foggy managed to shower, shave, and brush, he feels human and awake. He pulls on a pair of comfortable black jeans and a dark burgundy red, short sleeved hoodie with the hood pulled up for now so that his boyish features are slightly shaded. When he walks into the kitchen, he leans lightly against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he watches Rogers cook.

He looks comfortable and confident in a way that Foggy is instantly envious of. That's not to say that Foggy lacks confidence, because he doesn't. He's always been comfortable with himself and anyone that had a problem with him can just go straight to hell because he obviously doesn't need them in his life.

But still ... there's something about watching Captain America moving so easily in his space that is breathtaking. Foggy heaves a heavy, silent sigh before he pads into the room.

"Smells delicious, Captain Rogers." He stifles a giggle when the man jumps in surprise and blushes when he whirls around to face him. Once again, Foggy sees an odd expression on the superhero. His eyes look slightly dazed, a little glazed over. He quickly licks his lips and turns back to the stove.

"I hope it tastes as good as it smells Mr. Nelson. And please, call me Steve." Foggy walks over to grab plates and begin to set the table.

"Sure enough, Steve. But only if you drop this Mr. Nelson stuff. Call me Foggy." Steve glances over his shoulder and BEAMS at Foggy in that gorgeous way that lights his whole face up like concentrated sunshine. Foggy's pretty sure he might go temporarily blind if he stares at that smile too long.

"Foggy it is then. Come on, let's eat."

* * *

After a hearty and delicious breakfast, for which Foggy sang Steve's praises abundantly, he told his guest in no uncertain terms that guests do not do dishes, especially after cooking such a glorious meal. 

(When he succeeded in making Captain America blush, he had to admit to himself that it was a little addicting. Not just the yummy sight of it, but the heady rush of knowing he caused it.)

Eventually, they settled for taking glasses of sweet ice tea out onto his fire escape to watch the city below.

"Foggy ..." Steve murmurs his name in such a soft whisper, he's not even sure he was supposed to hear it. Which is why he's not that surprised when it takes almost three minutes for the other man to say anything else. "If I'm being ... rude ... or too personal, forgive me, but ... the other night ... why'd you do all of that? Or how, even? I mean, why does a lawyer know how to stitch and clean wounds?" 

The questions are invasive. They prick like vaccinations. Lodge under his skin like blunt splinters and jagged glass shards. And yet .... some part of him desperately needs to answer because he cannot tell Matt this. Not without stirring up that mountain sized debt of guilt his best friend breaks his back carrying around.

"It's not rude. Invasive as hell, but not rude." He drinks almost half his glass of tea. It's bracing, too sweet but a comfort that puts him in mind of other people's childhood and sometimes, that's okay. Hell, sometimes it's far easier to remember for someone else than for yourself. He stares at the condensation pearling against his finger tips and lets go of one hell of a stormy sigh.

"The Devil of Hell's Kitchen ... he means a lot to me but that's just a name and a mask. I know the spirit beneath all of that. Or at least .... I thought I did. I went to check on him, my heart so heavy and high in my throat I would've sworn every exhale tasted like rust ... and I found him half dead, bleeding out on his floor, mask in hand. The thing is .. if I hadn't found him like that, I'm pretty sure he never would've introduced me to that part of himself." He's bitter and accusatory and he still thinks he has every right to be. 

By some miracle, he doesn't jerk in surprise when Steve places a comforting hand on his bare arm. He leans in to it ever so slightly.

"I thought I was watching him die. Some hysterical, morbid part of me was already writing his fucking eulogy!" They both wince at the f-bomb but the hand remains on his arm and he is comforted. 

"Pardon my French. Anyway ... I thought this person I cared about was already dead, especially when he wouldn't let me call an ambulance. He just handed me a burner phone and had me call someone I'd never met before. Turned out she was a nurse. So, after I managed to start wrapping my head around my friend's violent, crime fighting alter ego, I called Burner Phone and had her teach me as much as she could." The hand squeezes and trembles and he's not sure why.

"Let me get this straight, Fog. Your reaction to finding out about your friend's secret vigilante nightlife ...... was to learn the best way to patch him up?" There are notes of awe and esteem in Captain America's voice and they make Foggy supremely uncomfortable because he really doesn't think they belong there. Not for him.

"Eventually, yeah. But it wasn't my first or even third reaction. Anger and betrayal in a weird combination were the first three reactions. And -then- came the determination. He's never going to give this up, not for me and I can't ask him to, anyway. So, I'm gonna make damn sure he survives this, at least."

He doesn't say that he wants to make sure Matt comes back to him.

He doesn't say he knows that Matt will die out there at some point.

He doesn't say the Devil breaks his heart every fucking day.

That doesn't keep any of it from being true.

"As for the other ... it was the right thing to do, Steve, so I did it. I don't have superpowers, I'm not an enhanced supersoldier and I -definitely- don't have a genetic mutation or supersuit but I will do everything I can to help anyone I can. Because it's the right thing to do." He hopes he doesn't sound pretentious or holier-than-thou-art, hopes he sounds as earnest as he feels. 

He must pull it off somehow because in the very next moment, his glass of tea is balancing precariously next to Steve's on the railing and he finds himself engulfed in Captain America's arms. He's not sure what he's done to deserve it but yes please. All the yes pleases.

"Foggy ..." He feels a moment of deja vu ... a feeling of having heard his name like that before and oh.

**Oh.** That's the way Matt says his name when he has said or done something Matt wasn't expecting but that pleases him no end. Foggy feels himself blushing profusely. "You're amazing. You know that, right?"

Again, he's pretty damn sure he doesn't deserve this. He's just a moderately funny lawyer not a crime fighting superhero. Steve and his friends and Matt ... they're something he'll never be. Worthy of something Foggy cannot begin to deserve.

"Of course I do, Cap'n. I'm about as awesome as they come, my man. Hella sexy, too." Foggy offers up his trademark flashy smile, charming but with little substance. One glance at that smile and Steve is hugging him closer, tighter. In fact, if Foggy didn't know any better, he'd say the first Avenger was cradling him. However, this is real life and he knows better.

"Your words say you understand, Fog, but your tone says otherwise." Foggy shifts uncomfortably in the steel cage of Steve's arms before carefully pulling himself free. He grabs his glass of tea and finishes it off before climbing back into his apartment.

"Thanks for breakfast, buddy. I think I should make you dinner in return. How about tomorrow night?" Foggy bounces momentarily on the heels of his shoes as he watches Steve crawl back in the window.

"O-oh, Uhm ..." Huh. He's blushing again, his eyes almost comically wide as he watches Foggy for a moment before nodding so enthusiastically that it's a wonder something doesn't rattle. "Yeah. I'd like that. A lot. What, uh ... what time should I come over?" Foggy bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from cooing when Steve scuffs his trainer across the floor again.

"Say around ... 8? That'll give me time to get everything done." It's almost surreal to watch Captain America bounce on the balls of his feet, face lit up in jubilant glee as he nods exuberantly.

"Perfect! Should I bring anything?" Foggy places a hand on Steve's back, leading him toward the door, grinning wickedly.

"Hmm, just bring your fine self and a bottle of wine, Cap'n." The two beam at each other for very different reasons before bidding each other fond see you laters.

(Foggy is beaming because he is actually getting to hang out with his childhood hero and hopefully test out a new recipe. Steve is beaming because he has managed to misread the nature of this dinner ... in that he thinks he has some insane yet awesome date ahead of him. Insane because he had never really thought it possible to date a man, and God does he love this day and age! And awesome because, well, **Foggy**! )

* * *

Foggy's beautiful, perfect day off is ruined at approximately 11:24 am when an old woman sneezes on him as she's thanking him for helping her pay for some much needed cold medicine. Because sometimes, no good deed goes unpunished.

* * *

Bleary eyed, Foggy tries to suck in a desperate breath but his nostrils feel glued shut and his throat is so tight and raspy he feels like he's been trying on Matt's Devil voice all night. His hand flails wildly, smacking the button on his alarm to shut the blasted, shrill thing up.

It doesn't occur to him that he should consider staying home since yesterday was his day off. Instead, he shuffles awkwardly out of bed and into a shower. 

He's a little slow getting ready but manages to make it into work on time.

Not only is he on time, but he manages to beat both other employees into the office. So, he goes straight to the coffee pot and gets it started. It might be Karen's job but he's not sure he could stomach her attempt this morning. As the brew percolates, he fumbles a little gold wrapper from his pocket. The scent of herb and honey causes his stomach to churn dangerously for a moment, but he still pops the drop into his mouth and immediately starts sucking on it.

He tries to blink through a thin build up of tears but it is a Herculean effort.

"Foggy??" Matt's concerned voice jerks him from the near stupor he had been in, drawing his blurry gaze away from the coffee pot and toward the doorway where Matt stands in all his glory and Foggy really just wants to weep because of course Matt looks as perfect as ever while Foggy feels two seconds from death via a combination of phlegm and weakness.

"Naarhgg." Apparently, he's beyond coherent sentences at the moment which sucks because he's pretty sure he had one hell of an eloquent opening statement prepared.

"Holy hell, Fog." Matt, ever the Saint, is by his side in a heartbeat. His wrist presses delicately against Foggy's forehead before his fingertips are probing Foggy's throat, checking for swollen glands. As adorable as it is for the local vigilante that says he's fine with a punctured lung to be checking him over, he's really not in the mood for this! He lightly smacks Matt's hands away and pours himself a cup of coffee.

"I'm fine, Matt."

"Foggy, you're not fine. You're warm and you're having trouble breathing and what are you even doing here? You're not fine, Fog!" Foggy scowls at his cup before turning to face his best friend.

"I am -fine-, _Matthew_. When your definition of the word doesn't encompass broken skin, -then- you can lecture me. I'm -fine-." The sight of Matt folding in on himself will never be okay, but there's very little he can do about it right now, because he's not going to argue this. He does, however, sigh and reach out to squeeze him at the shoulder. "If I get any worse, I'll head home, Matt." He watches Matt give a single, curt nod before stalking into his office. However, the fact that he leaves the door open feels a little like a win and he'll take it for now.

Two cups of coffee later and he still feels a little like death but at least he's fully awake now.

"Foggy!" Karen's voice cuts into his thoughts and he wobbles to the doorway of his office, leaning heavily against it. A glance reveals that Matt's door is still open and that calms him further.

"What's up, Karen? You have that ... look ... on your face. The one that says you've come across something interesting that's gonna prove to be a pain in my ass." He hrmphs and sighs, reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He's stuffy headed, hot, and can feel the beginning of one hell of a headache coming on.

"Oh Foggy, I'm -clearly- not the one being a pain in your ass. How long have you been screwing Captain America?" Foggy's pained spluttering is accompanied by something that sounds suspiciously like a book being torn apart at the spine in Matt's office. Oh, that's not good. "Matt? Is everything okay?" Because of course Karen is concerned for Matt instead of him. Like she should be. Because he's 100% sure Matt could do that to -his- spine, though he honestly has no idea why he would want to. Come to think of it, why had Matt apparently torn a book in two in the first place? Maybe some adorably misguided sense of protecting Foggy's virtue/reputation? Matt gets upset over the strangest things when it comes to their friendship.

(He still remembers a particularly odd moment in College. Matt had been in the middle of opening his laptop when Marci made a pointedly lewd remark about Foggy. Matt had accidentally snapped the laptop screen clear off. Marci had found it so funny she laughed for over five minutes and then made another lewd comment. It's why Foggy broke up with her. He told her point blank that he couldn't be with someone that talked about his business like that. -Especially- if the person was going to make Matt that uncomfortable.)

"Everything's **-fine-** , Karen." Foggy sighs and sends a glare toward Matt's door. Honestly, there's no reason for him to be so scathing to Karen when its Foggy that he's mad at.

(It's not. It's really, -really- not. He's scathing and angry because there's no way in -HELL- that Foggy is sleeping with Steve Rogers, even if he was Foggy's favorite Avenger and he practicly worshipped the ground that Saint Captain America walked on, because God cannot be -that- cruel, right? But then .... but then, maybe this is God's punishment because he keeps putting on the Mask and taking His judgement into his own hands. Damnit!!)

Karen glances from the open doorway to Foggy, then seems to remember that she's on a mission.

"So, are you going to deny that I saw one Steve Rogers, aka Captain America, the first Avenger, leaving your apartment early yesterday morning?" This time, there's the sound of something plastic snapping and Foggy cringes. What the hell, Matty!?! 

"Well yeah, he left after he made breakfast." No sooner are the words out of his mouth than he's groaning because that sounds wrong and from the way Karen is lighting up like the gossip that she is, he knows she took it the wrong way! "Not like that, Karen! Eeesh. It's NOT what you're thinking. He came over that morning to thank me for helping him with something and offered to make me breakfast in thanks. And no, it's not something I'm going to talk about. I'm not screwing --" 

His words are cut off by his mobile suddenly going off.

_Breathe into my hands I'll cup them like a glass to drink from_

_Are you still, still breathin'_  
Are you still   
Breathin'   
Are you still, still breathin'   
Are you still   
Breathin'  

_Breathe into my hands I'll cup them like a glass to drink from_

Foggy goes nearly crimson as he fumbles his phone out of his pocket and answers it.

"Uh, heya, Steve. What's up buddy?" Poor Foogy is acutely aware of Karen staring at him, mouth open in surprise, eyes accusing. He's also very much aware of Matt standing in his office door with a pinched, pained expression on his pale features. He looks so betrayed and there is no reason for that!

He's also pretty damn sure his best friend is going to listen to every word on both sides of this conversation but he doesn't have the first clue why.

"Hey, Fog. Hope I'm not interrupting anything." Steve sounds so adorably sincere that Foggy can't help but grin a bit.

"Nah, not really. Just --" A loud, painful sneeze richochets out of him and he groans. 

"Bless you, Fog. I was just calling to ask what kind of wine I should bring tonight." His words are so warm and happy that Foggy feels a little dizzy. Of course, that might also be because of the sneeze and the unhappy way Matt is mouthing the word wine like it has personally insulted Battlin' Jack Murdock's memory or something.

"Hmm? Oh, right. I was planning on making Italian, so something that would pair -" Another painful sneeze is followed by a deep, gritty cough. Karen has quickly put distance between them and Matt looks two seconds from bullrushing him in concern.

"Foggy? Are you okay? Are you getting sick?" Again, Steve sounds so genuinely concerned and Foggy kinda wants to wrap the guy up in a big hug for caring so much about someone he just met. But then, it's basically second nature for Foggy to hug people.

"I.. yeah, I'm fine, Steve. I'm just .. I'm fine. But I think we gotta reschedule, buddy. Sorry." Another few sneezes and Matt is grabbing the door of his office, knuckles white. Foggy wants to laugh at the sudden vision he has of Matt dressed in all black, trying to punch out invisible germs for making Foggy sick.

(His vision isn't very far off. Matt would give just about anything to be able to beat up the common cold so his poor Foggy would feel better.)

"No, of course, Fog. No reason to apologize. Would rather you feel better when we get together. Wait, are you at work?" The accusatory tone causes Foggy to duck his head and blush a little.

"Uhm ... yeah?" Steve huffs and clicks his tongue. "I still have to work, Ste. Speaking of which, I need to get back to it. I'll talk to you later."

"Yeah, alright. Please just take it easy, Foggy." Once they've hung up, Karen is practically vibrating, wearing a wicked little grin that rubs Foggy the wrong way.

"Yes, Steve and I were going to have dinner. Because we're friends and I wanted to pay him back for breakfast. We're not dating or screwing, Karen, so just drop it." She looks mutinous, obviously has a half a dozen different things she wants to say, but she does drop it. For now.

She may have dropped it indefinitely, if Steve hadn't showed up.

* * *

Edging toward lunch, Foggy feels oddly disconnected. Or maybe not so oddly given that he feels as if he's perceiving the world around him through a thin layer of fuzzy cotton.

His hearing is damp, his taste is loud, and his voice is textured. Basically, it feels as if all of his senses are mixed up and he hates it. He's also pretty sure this is the third time he's tried to read this paragraph.

"F-Foggy?" Karen actually squeaks and if he were feeling better he'd totally be giving her a hard time but just no.

"What's up, Kar -- Ste!? What's up, buddy?" Foggy groans internally when he steps in to the main room of their offices. Because Steve Rogers is standing in the middle of the room, wearing his concern just as beautifully as he wears his tight Captain America get up.

Karen is blushing and looks stuck somewhere between utterly awed and smug. He hates that look instantly because it means that she's made her mind up, no matter what the truth might actually be.

Matt is back at his office door. He has his cane in a death grip. Foggy suddenly feels minutely sorry for all the scumbags Matt has ever laid those capable hands on. Only minutely, though.

"Since you insist on working, I -insist- on a few things too, Fog." Steve's holding a bag and Foggy grins despite himself. Last time Steve had showed up with a bag, he'd gotten an awesome breakfast out of it. So.

When Steve catches him by the sleeve and practically drags him to the conference room, he blushes deeply but doesn't fight it.

He let's Captain America gently manhandle him into a seat.

"So. I, uhm, I made soup." Steve plucks a tupperware container of chicken noodle soup out. Foggy actually checks himself for drool when he gets a whiff of it. Steve places a thermos next to the bowl. "Also, warm herbal tea with honey and lemon. And I wasn't really sure which one might work, so ... uhm..." Poor Steve is blushing deeply when he upends the bag and a plethora of cough syrups, cold meds, and cough drops pile on the table top.

Foggy is vaguely aware of Matt's office door slamming shut, but Steve and Karen seem oblivious to it. Probably because they're both staring so anxiously at him.

"Oh man, you didn't have to do all of this, Ste." He reaches out on instinct and squeezes his arm.

"I know I didn't have to, Fog, I wanted to. You deserve it." Again with the earnest, sincere tone. 

"I really, really don't." He mutters the words too low for them to hear, but the loud thump from Matt's office says that his best friend heard it. "Thanks, Steve. Mmm, this is really good." He makes sure that he doesn't look directly into the superhero's blinding smile.

"I'm going out for lunch." Matt's words are bitten off from behind a beautiful, fake smile and Foggy's stomach roils a little.

"Hang on. I'll come with you." Karen swivels toward the door and Matt tenses.

"No." He grunts the single word before disappearing and Foggy is suddenly so damn tired. Bone weary exhausted and too foggy-headed to deal with whatever this drama is gonna shape up to be.

"Go to lunch, Karen. I'm gonna finish this up and then head on home. I probably won't be in tomorrow." He flashes her an exhausted smile that doesn't even pretend to try and reach his eyes. 

"I.. Uhm, yeah, okay, Foggy. I hope you feel better." She hesitates for a minute, looking between him and Steve before giving him a hard, sharp smile that slices through something vulnerable and deep inside of him. "We -will- talk about this later."

His features go cold and unreadable. Becomes a look that would be better suited to Marci than him.

"No, Miss Page, we won't. Contrary to your belief, it's actually none of your business. If you can't accept me at my word, then there is really nothing left for us to talk about." He cannot adjust his tone. Can't find his way back to warmth and kindness because he's tired.

So.

Fucking.

Tired.

Either she is willing to believe him, to take her friend at his word, or they aren't friends. In which case, he wouldn't speak about his personal life with her, anyway.

Her eyes go wide and a little watery, her words an immediate backpedal.

"F-Foggy! I wasn't... I wasn't going to make you talk about anything you didn't want to! I wasn't saying I didn't believe you, I just --"

"That's exactly what you were going to do, and exactly what you were implying. Otherwise, you would have taken me at my word when I said you were wrong, rather than insisting. Have a good lunch." Its a dismissal, plain and simple, and she seems to understan that. She exits the room and then the office in short order.

Steve has reached out to gently cover one of Foggy's hands with his own.

"Everything alright, Foggy?" There are so many ways he could answer that, but he really doesn't want to burden a real life superhero with his bullshit, so he just smiles 

"Yeah, I'm okay. Just ... eh, you know how it can be. Nosey friends that decide that they have the right to every aspect of your life." 

Steve shudders and leans closer.

"... I know Tony Stark." Foggy hisses in sympathy, because enough said. "Come on, Foggy. Lemme walk you home." The prospect of company when he feels truly horrid is too much to pass up.

* * *

One day off turns into four days filled with worried texts and sleepy phone conversations with Captain America and an apologetic voicemail from Karen. 

It's also met with silence from Matt and Foggy will pretend that it's okay. Whatever had angered his friend was apparently important enough that he needed time and space to get a handle on it.

(This happened a few times in college as well. Matt would avoid him until he had a handle on whatever was wrong then he would slip seamlessly back into their friendship and Foggy would be kind enough not to ask about it. He's content to follow this tried and true formula. For now.)

Finally, Foggy is feeling better. No sneezes or sniffles, no hacking cough or stuffy nose. No headache.

Work even went well. Foggy and Matt were civil and friendly without any mention of Matt's radio silence and Karen was smart enough not to ask or insinuate anything about Captain America. And Foggy was smart enough not to mention that Steve had taken care of him on and off for the four days he was out sick. He also doesn't mention that they have plans to hang out tonight.

Partially because he's pretty sure he'll snap at Karen again if she says anything about it. But mostly it's because of Matt's weird, insane reactions last time. They are tolerating each other so he doesn't want to start anymore craziness that might end in book ripping and Matt storming out of the office.

(If Foggy would just stop and think about it for a moment, he'd realize that there isn't anything weird, odd, or mysterious about Matt's behavior. He's jealous. Period. For several reasons. The two most obvious being that Foggy should be dating him, not Captain America and even if he IS dating Captain America, he should've told Matt immediately. So that he could scare Mr. Perfect away. Also becaue friends tell each other things like this.)

So Foggy is in the middle if setting the table when he hears a knock at the door. He's a little tired but eager to see his friend so there's not even a second knock before he's answering.

His mouth goes a little dry and he looks between Steve and himself.

"Wow. I feel totally under dressed." Steve looks like he stepped off the pages of a fashion catalog in his pressed black slacks, dark blue button up dress shirt and black blazer. 

"What? Why? You look great, Fog. Very handsome." Foggy raises a skeptical brow, looking from Cap'n's blushing features to his own well worn black jeans and maroon thumbhole sweater. He definitely feels under dressed.

"Erm, thanks, but you definitely blow me out of the water, man." He steps to the side and let's Steve in, grinning as he holds a bottle of wine out.

"Uhm ... Tony sent this. Said we'd enjoy it and he said he's sorry? Something about an apology over a bottle for you and someone named .. Matt. Should I be jealous?" The last is said as a joke but there is a note of actual concern in there and what even is that?? Foggy snorts and leads him toward the set table.

"Yeah, when I was patching Hawkeye up, I gave Tony a drink to steady his nerves. He tried to get more and I told him off. The bottle was a gift from my parents to celebrate Matt and me getting our own practice started. You, uh, met him in a roundabout way when you came to the office." He wrinkles his nose at the memory, nearly jumping out if his skin when Steve materializes next to his chair ...... and pulls it out for him. 

He manages to resist blushing by reminding himself that Steve Rogers is from another time when people were far more polite. Sometimes he wonders what it would've been likely, growing up back then. He usually assumes he'd still have been the odd kid out, but whatever.

"Hmm. The one that slammed his door ." Steve sounds every bit the disappointed all-American boy and Foggy sighs inwardly. He knows that Matt didn't exactly give the best first impression, but he's prepared to bristle on his behalf and always will be.

 

"Yeah. He uh, he's been having a few ... issues lately. He's usually way better behaved. He doesn't react very well when I'm sick. I think it worries him or something." Steve makes a soft, noncommittal noise as he pours their wine and they tuck into their meal.

* * *

After their meal, in which it was Steve's turn to sing Foggy's culinary praises, they find themselves settled on the couch. Foggy is vaguely surprised that Steve sits as close as Matty usually does, which means their legs are touching faintly.

"Wow, Foggy. It's been a while since I felt so ... relaxed. Things haven't exactly been ... easy, since I was thawed." There's such a sound of deep seated angst in Steve's voice. It's a very, -very- familiar sound. One he's used to hearing in Matt so he has a sort of Pavlovian response to it. His arm goes around Steve's shoulder automatically, drawing the Avenger into his side instantly. Cradling him protectively close.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself and don't even worry about it, buddy. Whenever you need a place to chill or want to hang out, you're welcome here." He glances to the side where Steve's cheek is pushed against him and his mouth goes dry again.

Because Steve is wearing an eye crinkling smile brighter than the Sun and his lashes are dropped to half mast in a way that looks almost shyly coy ... a way that might be indicative of someone's desire to kiss someone. His stomach drops out and he berates himself silently for getting such a silly thought. Guys like Steve (and Matt) don't go around wanting to kiss him. 

"After all, that's what friends are for, Ste. They take care of each other." He of course means this with all of his heart. Friendship is a sacred bond that Foggy would give anything and EVERYTHING to. So of course he means those words in the deepest, most important way. 

Which is why he's confused when Steve jerks, as if he's been shocked or slapped. He immediately ducks out from under Foggy's arm and he's so damn confused. They were just happy and smiling and now Steve looks a little pale and kind of sick and please dear GOD don't let him have accidentally given the first Avenger food poisoning or something.

"Right. Friends. Of course. Right." Oh.

**Oh.** Had he somehow managed to wrongly assume? Are they not friends? Had the breakfast, the homemade soup and medicines, had they all actually been to pay him back and nothing else??

Suddenly, Foggy feels a little sick, too.   
"I mean .. if you don't want to be friends, I totally get that, Captain Rogers. I didn't mean to upset you or anything .." Steve jerks again and Foggy really wishes he knew what he kept doing wrong because he might joke about having an electric personality but this is too much.

"What?! Oh, Foggy, no. I mean, of course I'm your friend. **Of course**! Please, don't ever doubt that, okay? I'm _**honored**_ to be your friend, Fog." 

(And if that's all they can ever be, well ... he's Captain America! He will put on his big boy pants and be the best friend he can be. While pining. From afar. Like an -adult-.)

Foggy breaths a little easier and carefully pulls Steve into a hug.

"Seriously, I'm pretty sure I'm the one that's supposed to be honored, Cap'n. But thanks, man. I'm so happy we can be friends." Foggy beams at the superhero before he pulls away.

(The earnest truth with which Foggy speaks of being happy cements Steve's resolve. He will swallow down his disappointment and hopes and he will do everything in his power to be a friend worthy of this man.)

"Thanks for the evening, Fog. I really enjoyed it. But I should be heading out. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?" They share one last hug before Steve escapes into the night.

* * *

Several hours later, Fogwell's Gym is closed for the night, but the lights are still on. Matt can hear the familiar hum of electricity, can feel the heat bleeding from the building.

And of course, he can hear the all too familiar thump and creak of a punching bag. He hadn't meant to come here, had been passing in the middle of his patrol but this place will always speak to the Devil in him.

He rolls in through a window, landing silently on his feet. He is immediately hit with a sensory overload.

Hum of electricity. Crackle of lungs overworked. Salty tang of sweat, rusted copper twang of blood. Shifting skin pulled too tight over bone. Muscles plucked taut like a string. Frustrated grunt of over exertion coupled with pain from busted knuckles continuing to be flayed open by thrown punches. 

So. Much. Emotion.

He's done this far too many times. Tried to physically beat down something as intangible and untouchable as emotions.

As -feelings-.

He's never been successful, and he knows this person won't, either.

"Who the hell pissed you off?" The question is out before he even gives his gravely voice permission to speak. Before he has even tried to figure out who he's speaking to.

"Foggy." The name is a raw, visceral snarl that has Matt dropping into a fighter stance instantly because it has dialed his protective instincts to a hard 11. Because anyone beating a bag that savagely while thinking of Foggy is a THREAT with a capital 'over my dead body' because there's no way in Hell anyone's getting close enough to Foggy to pose an actual threat while Matt still has a single breath in his body. He will become the Devil himself before he lets anything happen to his friend. 

Wait. Just wait one damn minute! Though all he has said is Foggy's name, he KNOWS that voice.

Steve Rogers.

He tenses further, jaws clenching and teeth grinding. Some part of him is diagustedly pleased at the thought that Steve and Foggy aren't getting along at the moment. The guilt for that thought is wholly overwhelming but he still can't help having it. If there's 'trouble in paradise' then maybe he hasn't lost his friend yet.

"What's wrong? Date didn't go so well?" He spits and sneers and hates himself that little bit more because he can't just be a good friend to Foggy and try to fix whatever has gone wrong. His friend deserves to be HAPPY, doesn't deserve to have Matt wanting to undermine that happiness.

His question elicites an almost inhuman grunt followed by the deep thud of a fist connecting with something dense. Then the breaking of a chain, the splitting of fabric ... Oh. Captain America is so pissed off he just tore the punching bag in two.

Yeah. Been there. Done that. Foggy has a way of drawing deep, overwhelming emotions out of a person. Even the Devil of Hell's Kitchen had trouble handling Foggy Feels at times.

"It went fantastic. Great meal, great flirting." Steve is stalking in the direction of the fallen bag. Matt can hear his hands flexing beneath the boxing tape. "Thought my heart was gonna beat right out of my chest when he put his arm around me." Something dark and jealous rears up inside of Matt. He has to fight the desire to punch Steve in the face for that arm around him but he knows that he doesn't have the right. 

"Yeah, it was going really great ... until he told me that's what friends are for. There I am, curled right up to his side.." The hollow thud of a foot kicking the empty bag makes Matt wince. "Trying not to do or say something stupid because I think it's going great. I mean, I'm already wondering if he's going to get mad if I go for the kiss I've been wanting to give him since the moment I saw him in his -bathrobe- and he's talking about how we're -friends-." Another kick and okay, Matt's not totally heartless. He -knows- how Steve feels. He's been there, so he actually feels a little sorry for the superhero. Just a little.

"I panicked and he immediately backpedaled. Said something about how he would -understand- if we weren't. He said it like .... like ..." Matt swallows heavily, angles himself away from Steve.

"He said it like he -actually- thinks we somehow deserve -better- than him." His own anger is starting to rise. The desire to hunt down some low life and beat them senseless itches under his skin.

"Yes! That! Exactly!" One last kick to the bag followed by a heavy thud. Muscled weight connecting with the floor. Steve has dropped next to the downed bag. His fingers pick idly at the tape now that he's got some of this off his chest. "How can he -think- that? I mean how .... how can he have it so -wrong-?" 

After a moment, Matt makes his way over to the seated man and collapses on the other side of the bag. They may be spilling their mutually unrequited feelings but that doesn't mean he suddenly likes or trusts the superhero.

"Because he's a beautiful moron that is incapable of understanding just how fucking -great- he is. He will never understand that he's **too good for us**. That even if we save a thousand ... a -million- lives, we will never deserve him." Matt's breathing heavy by the time he manages to shut himself the hell up. Not that it matters. He's already given too much away. Already made it painfully obvious how much he loves his best friend. 

He feels like he's gone a dozen rounds with a heavyweight, but then, thinking about Foggy often makes him feel like that. 

"But we put up with it. We shove all our sticky, inconvenient emotions behind the thickest, toughest walls we can because Foggy deserves all the friends he can get. Because friends make him happy and he deserves every fucking -ounce- of happiness he can get." Matt growls those words like an -order- because they are. He is -ordering- Steve to get his shit together and prepare to be a damn good friend to Foggy Nelson.

He also realizes that for the first time ever, he has an -ally-. Steve is the first person that seems to truly understand Foggy's worth. He takes a deep breath and carefully removes his mask. After a moment of hesitancy, he holds his hand out in the general direction of the superhero.

"Hi. My name's Matt Murdock." Steve makes a startled sound followed by a half strangled one. Then shakeily takes his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Matt. I'm Steve Rogers. I believe we have a beautiful moron in common."


	3. Duck Tales! whooh ooh!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been slow to update this, but for the next few months, the Holidays are going to be very busy for me, so I will be slow for all of my stories. I am still writing, though!!

Foggy glances at his phone with a grin, replying to a text from Steve. It's so very hard for him to wrap his head around the fact that he's now good friends with Captain America, the first Avenger. 

Or the fact that Captain America -DEMANDED- that Foggy text him every night to make sure that he got home safe from work. There had been a stern pout and wide, pleading puppy eyes so of course Foggy had put aside his argument that he's a grown ass man capable of getting home okay and agreed to update Steve on his safety via texts.

(Of course, being Foggy, they were often silly or sassy depending on his mood.)

He shoves his mobile into the pocket of his shorts and drags himself in the direction of his kitchen. A quick perusal of his fridge and cupboards leaves him sighing heavily and bemoaning his lack of funds to order in and lack of will to pop down to the market and shop. 

He actually sticks his tongue out petulantly at his kitchen as a whole before he turns and drags himself back toward his couch. Usually, he wouldn't be acting like this. Wouldn't be avoiding the adult things he knows he needs to do, such as taking care of basic needs like eating, but it's been a long day!

Their only client at the moment is a rather mouthy know-it-all bodega owner that has pissed off a wealthy man who's philosophy in life seems to be throw high dollar lawyers at every problem. So, Foggy spent the day talking to stuffed suits that seemed of the opinion that the Law means something different depending on -where- you got your degree. He's been talked down to, treated like a third rate bum, and spent the better part of the afternoon running around Hell's Kitchen tracking down information. All he wants is a nice, warm meal, maybe a massage, and some well deserved sleep.

Instead, all he has is an aching body, the beginnings of a stress headache, and a rumbling tummy. Oh joy.

He's half dozing on the couch, mind stranded in a strange quagmire of work thoughts and surreal day dreams when he hears someone knocking on his door.

He hasn't the foggiest who it could be! Steve would've texted or called before dropping by these days, Karen rarely comes over and Matt ... well, Matt never comes over any more. In fact, though he can never admit it out loud, Foggy isn't even sure they are friends anymore.

Well, that's not true. They are ... casual friends, now, rather than the best friends they've been since college. He sniffs heavily and manages to lever himself off the couch and head to the door.

He winces in pain just as he gets it open and is surprised to see Hawkeye standing there. Bag in hand. Big smile changed immediately to a concerned frown. Also, wearing Foggy's favorite Captain America hoodie. 

(He knows it's his because it, along with The Pajamas, were mysteriously missing when Steve returned his borrowed clothes.)

"Is that my hoodie?!" Foggy squeaks the question at the same time Hawkeye demands "Are you okay?"

A moment of silence precedes another dual outburst.

"..maybe..." Clints voice has dropped into a soft, secretive tone. "I'm totally fine, redux!" Foggy's voice has jumped into a higher register, automatically on the defensive, though he's not sure why.

"Right ... how about we both try the truth, yeah? This -used- to be your hoodie. But it belongs to me, now. So. Truth time, dude." Foggy groans and without hesitation, steps to the side to let Hawkeye in.

Once the door is closed, Hawkeye grabs him by the sleeve and hauls him toward the kitchen.

"I really am fine, redux. Just tired, man. It's been a long day with a lot of condescending assholes." The other man makes a sympathetic sound even as he manhandles Foggy into a kitchen chair.

"Well, it's good I come with gifts, ain't it?" When Hawkeye gives an exaggerated brow waggle, Foggy giggles and then groans. "There it is! Good to hear you lighten up. Now, Mama America sends treats for his favorite. He's worried about you, apparently. Honestly, why he thinks he needs to mother hen a grown ass man so much is beyond me. But then, all-American boy next door and stuff. That's just not my wheelhouse." 

".... either one of us got switched at birth, or you're my soul mate, redux." Hawkeye actually lights up at that and begins to unpack the contents of the bag.

"Well, we don't really look enough alike, but I'm pretty sure you'd be the best little brother ever, dude." Foggy is not expecting such flippant, playful words to overwhelm him as they do. He has to battle back tears and forcefully swallow around the lump in his throat.

"And you'd be the coolest big brother, redux."

* * *

After the delicious meal, Hawkeye had departed with a big smile and Foggy couldn't help but think how damn lucky he is, to have friends like this. 

The kind of people he can chill out with and talk about stupid, silly things with.

* * *

Foggy grins warmly as he waves goodbye to his neighbor, Mr. Swanson. He's a sweet, overworked single Dad who's in way over his head trying to keep up with five year old twins. After having met the man in mismatched shoes, skipped buttons on his long sleeve shirt and the kind of harried mania found only in a parent, he offered to babysit whenever he was available. 

As hyperactive and crazy as the twins are, he adores the little hellions. He casts his gaze around his messy, partially destroyed flat and can't help but laugh. Sure, he has some work ahead of himself, but it's all good. He grabs the bin from the kitchen and starts cleaning.

He's about halfway through when he hears it. A soft, rusty squeak from the fire escape outside his window. Were he anyone else, the sound would be so easily iverlooked. It wouldn't even be a blip in an average person's radar. But the average person isn't friend's with superheroes. The average person doesn't keep an ear out for beat up friends that might need help.

So,  he immediately abandons what he's doing and heads for his window. Now, unlike his superhero friends, he doesn't have any real stealth ability. He moves how he moves and has never seen a reason to censure himself. So, he knows that the sounds of his movement are obvious and he doesn't care. If something out there is a threat, it's already too late because they are already too close. 

He draws his curtain back and nearly gasps in surprise. 

Hawkeye isn't perched in an uncomfortable looking crouch, hands gripping the railing so tight that Foggy can see the white of his knuckles. He winces in sympathy.

"Clint..?" He calls out as softly as he can while still audible, doing everything in his ability not to surprise or overwhelm his friend with his sudden appearance.

It doesn't work, given the fact that Clint jumps and immediately pulls his bow.

"Whoa... Whoa! Calm down! It's ME, buddy!" The words seem to immediately cut through whatever's going on because the Avenger yelps in surprise and instantly drops his weapon.

"F-F-Foggy." His lips chatter as if from extreme cold and yet after a few moments, Foggy realizes that it's from emotions .. from fear. The thought that -Hawkeye- can feel such a level of fear kinda scares him.

"Yeah, it's me, Clint. Come on, man, I gotcha." To prove his point, he reaches through the window and grabs the trembling man by the shoulders. With as much care as he can muster, he helps his friend into the apartment.

"Foggy. It's not ... it .." His voice trips and fails and Foggy's heart cannot help but go out to his friend.

"It's okay, buddy. It's gonna be okay." After a moment of hesitation, he guides him to the coach and settles him there. No sooner is he sitting, however, than he begins to shake noticeably. He shoves his hands under his thighs and angles his head down.

Trying to make himself as small as possible. 

Foggy wouldn't recognize the movement if he hadn't seen Matt pull the same thing a few times. 

(Usually whenever Foggy was angry and Matt was afraid that they were going to fight. Because Matt has always secretly worried that a fight would mean the end of their friendship. And their first major fight had almost done just that. He will forever be thankful that Foggy came back.)

"So, my big brother from another mother, what brings you to my humble apartment in the middle of the evening?" He's trying for light and airy but caring. Clint's entire body jerks as if he's been shocked. He curls a little tighter into himself.

"It ... it's been a bad day. It started with the whispers. It sounds like everyone is whispering except -him-. He's all I can here but I don't know what he's saying." Foggy wants to ask. Of course he does, but he had a feeling he needs to let Clint get this all out. "And then the shakes came. I can barely hold my bow, Foggy. It's, like, my main -thing- and I can't even -use- it! I tried to stop a mugging on the way here and nearly got my ass kicked. I'm useless and it's all his FAULT!" 

The steady rise of his voice seems to have sparked something in the Avenger because he leaps to his feet and begins to pace, trembling hands waving through the air as if to somehow highlight his point.

"They just ... they don't get it! Well, I mean .. Nat sorta gets it but not really because there's a difference between being brainwashed to become a spy and having Loki, the God of freakin' MISCHIEF in your head. They all, they just .. they ... stare. And I know I'm not right, Foggy, I -know- that but they just keep staring." 

Ah.

Okay.

So, this is about Loki . The Asgardian asshole that wanted to destroy the world in a fit of jealousy. What did he have to do with Clint? Or whispers??

So, Foggy takes a deep breath, remembers Matt's words about how Foggy rushes out to save people, he just doesn't wear a mask... and he tries to save his friend.

(It never occurs to him just how dangerous this situation is. It doesn't occur to him that he's approaching a superhero with military training that had just admitted to being a little off his rocker.)

Clint could legitimately hurt him in a hundred different ways without a second thought but Foggy walks right up to him and stops him mid-pace.

"Come with me, Clint." The words are spoken in Foggy's most authoritative but gentle tone. The same voice he uses when dealing with the twins. He's a little surprised when it works. Clint immediately snaps to and sways into Foggy's personal space. He uses the action to get a hand on Hawkeyes bicep and guides him into the kitchen.

"Sit." A kind but direct order. He let's his friend settle in a chair at the table before h walks back out to the living room. After searching for a few moments, hr makes a soft ah-ha sound before returning triumphantly to the kitchen.

"So. Here's what going to happen, big brother. You're going to sit right here and tale this coloring book and these map colors. You're going to color the hulk Orange and turn Captain America into a gay pride flag, because of reasons." When this statement receives half a chuckle, Foggy honestly feels like he won the lottery or something just as awesome. "Your hands are going to shake. You're going to mess up and color outside of the lines .. you will even get upset and frustrated, but so what?? You are going to be the proud owner of a rainbow colored Steve and an Orange sunburst Bruce. Totally. Worth it." He puts on his best, brightest smile and practically melts inside when Clint beams at him. Sure, there's still a little mania in the Avenger's eyes and nothing is actually fixed, but it's a stepping stone toward getting better.

".... thanks, little brother." It's Foggy's turn to beam as he walks toward his cupboards and starts to collect things to set on the counter.

"No problem, buddy. I'll be right over here if you need me." And for now, he leaves the Avenger alone. Foggy is quiet, though not silent, letting the older man know that he's here for him, without hovering or nagging. They are simply, comfortably, occupying the same space as they both work on their tasks.

Clint's shoulders square even as he hunches over the coloring book. Foggy is quietly going about making homemade cookies. 

Only after the scent of spices fills the kitchen does Clint begin to look away from the book, nostrils flaring in interest.

"What smells so good, Fog?" The Avenger tilts this head back, looking almost like a puppy as he scents the air.

"A treat for later, my man. For now, show me what you have." As Foggy takes the chair next to him, Clint lights up shyly and carefully angles the coloring book toward him.

As instructed/suggested, Captain America is a flamboyant rainbow of color while The Hulk is an orange sunburst. Black Widow is dressed in light blue with b bubble gum pink hair and Iron Man is a radioactive green. Thor is dressed in Iron Man red and Hawkeye is teletubby purple from head to foot. He even doodled a purple domino mask on himself.

"Dude, this is -awesome-!" Foggy croons the praise, reaching out to rub a hand betwee Clint's shoulder blades before he pushes the coloring book back toward him.

"Thanks, Fog ... for everything, man. I just .. I can't even right now, bro." Clint wiggled in his seat for a moment before shyly reaching out to pulls Foggy into a tight hug. They rest that way for a few minutes before they pull apart. "You know ... you really should be in this line-up, Foggy." 

Those .. are not words he expected, let alone anything he actually has a response for. Which is why he's dead happy to be saved by the bell.

(It's actually the oven timer, but whatever! It still saved him from the boatload of awkward!!)

He leaps to his feet with a happy hum.

"I think it's time for a little treat, dude. Head on into the living room, okay?" The clatter of the oven door opening drowns out the sound of Clint tearing the two pages out of the coloring book, folding them, and shoving them into his pocket before he makes his way into the living room to sit down.

Foggy is shaking a little as he plates everything up. It was one thing to have Matt mention the whole rushing out to help sans mask thing, but to have Clint speak as he had?? Foggy exhaled on a tremble before forcefully shaking himself out and grabbing everything. 

When he steps into the living room, Clint is hovering anxiously in front of the couch, waiting.

"Whatever that is, it smells like mana, Fog." He beams at his friend before managing to set the plate of warm cookies and glasses of milk on the table.

"Well, you came on the right day, Clint. I made spiced pecan sandies from scratch." Foggy preens a little at the pleased sound of disbelief that his friend makes before he plops gracelessly on the couch. When Clint doesn't join him, he grabs him by the wrist and yanks him down next to him. "Sit and eat, buddy."

After a moment of hesitation, Clint leans into him and begins to eat. After the first bite, Clint moans happily.

"Dude, this is better then Mama 'Merica makes!" Foggy actually snickers at the praise before he leans back and curls into his friend 

"Don't worry, redux. There's enough to take back with you." Foggy find himself relaxing easily into the atmosphere of comfort and belonging shared between them.

They each still have problems. Foggy is going to spend every moment worrying about Matt and the Avengers because he cares, and Clint has a long way to go before the things Loki did to him fade and pale to something manageable. But for now, they have whimsical coloring books to steady their hands and delicious baked goods to steady their souls. More importantly, they have each other, chosen brothers, whenever they are in need.


	4. Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays!!

Is it cliche, ironic or just funny in a really scary way, when all hell breaks loose in a place called Hell's Kitchen? Like, could this qualify as God having a twisted sense of humor? He'll have to ask Matt if he makes it through this mess.

Right now, however, he's a little more concerned with getting the five other people with him somewhere safe!

You see, all hell chose to break loose while Foggy was on the way home from work. No sooner was his apartment building in sight, than something large came crashing through the side of the building ... and right through his place.

The reason he is currently questioning God's sense of humor is because it seems that -only- his apartment was hit. His neighbors on either side were unaffected, and he is actually -happy- for that fact. He would rather suffer if someone could be spared, even if he doesn't really advertise that fact often.

While he stood there, staring in utter disbelief, he heard the roaring of something unearthly, mechanical, and so very obviously -dangerous-.

The life altering truth of losing his home will have to wait. 

"Foggy!" A semi-familiar voice pulls him from his musings and he's surprised to find a ring of five faces peering desperately up at him. Five neighbors looking to him as if he will somehow have answers.

"Right. We need to get off the streets, but not right here. Whatever that was, there could be more. Mr. Swanson, you and Jake take the back. Keep the kids between us. You're with me, Ms. Wells." He has only a moment to stop and think how odd it is that he doesn't feel weird giving orders in a situation like this.

As one, their group moves away from the building, Foggy leading but also keeping an eye behind to make sure that everyone is ok. He's actually surprised that they make it a full two blocks away before they are confronted with the newest big bad. 

At first glance, the situation would be comical because the creatures appear to be empty suits of medieval  armor. The kind that appear in old ghost movies or in museums. The armor is standing at nearly six foot, a large warhammer currently being used to bludgeon a parked car. 

"It's a Prince!" One of the kids squeal and clap their hands happily and Foggy almost wants to curse. Almost. He will -never- be the type to curse a child for their innocence and imagination, though.

The armor screeches like the damned as it turns on rusted hinges to 'look' in their direction. The assault of the vehicle ends instantly in favor of the armor advancing on them. He wishes he could call out for Matt but he's pretty sure his friend has more important things to worry about ... like the safety of an entire -city- and not just this little group.

(Of course, if Matt heard Foggy think something like that, he'd have one hell of a handful of colorful words for his friend. Starting with don't be stupid, Fog, I'd always come for you and ending in if you don't call me next time, it's not the baddie of the week that will kick your ass!!)

"Oh shit." Foggy breathes the words in strangled pain even as he calls over his shoulder. "Into the alley! RUN!!" His voice splutters like a dying flame but they react instantly, fleeing into the shadows. Foggy barely has enough time to pray they will be safe before the warhammer is swinging and by some undefinable MIRACLE, he manages to dodge the weapon and bring his old briefcase up to smash in to the helmet of the armor. 

It is cathartic to watch the helmet fly end over end and land on the decimated vehicle, but it is almost spiritual when the suit of arm falls over, inanimate once more.

"Thank God. I might actually have to go to church with Matt one day." He postpones that thought for now in favor of hefting the warhammer and testing the weight and balance of it. It's not exactly the spitting image of a bat, but close enough that Foggy is confident he can use it to defend his people.

"Ms. Wells, would you be so kind as to carry that for me?" He juts his semi-trembling chin in the direction of his briefcase even as he fishes his ringing cellphone out. The theme to Ducktales cuts off halfway through as he answers.

"FOGGY!" Clint's voice is shockingly high pitched with desperation, exertion, and concern. "Fuck, we were scared you were ... were ... they're showing your apartment, even mentioned you on the news. PLEASE tell me you're ok!" 

"I--" 

"Fog!" Steve's voice breaks in to the call and Foggy feels himself blushing deeply because Captain America sounds wrecked with worry. "Are you alright? Where are you!?" 

He glances over his shoulder, hand tightening on the warhammer on instinct.

"I'm a couple blocks from the apartment. Those ... things are still around. I have a few people with me. Have Tony trace my --" His words are sharply cut off by the sound of a little girl screaming. He shoves his mobile into his pocket and turns on a dime to sprint towed th girl. With more strength than he would've thought himself capable, he brings the warhammer up in an arch, catching the armor under the chin. As another helmet goes flying, the armor falls over, motionless.

"Fog-- wh-- safe-- plea--" Clint and Steve are muffled from his pocket, frantic and desperate for him to answer but he's too worried about the people he feels responsible for.

"Everyone stay close and keep alert. If I say run, head as far that way as you can go!" He waves his hand in the general direction of Avengers Tower because he fully believes that the Avengers will save them. 

(Though as he does with Matt, he fully believes that the Avengers need to contend themselves with the rest of the city rather than a single, small group.)

"Foggy!!" Matt's voice quakes over the line and Foggy barely manages to fish his mobile out for how badly his hands are shaking. "FOGGY!"

"M--Daredevil! I'm fine! I'm safe!" He winces even as he rushes to reassure his friend that he's okay. The last thing he really needs right now is Matt struggling to concentrate in the middle of all if this.

"Be careful! No matter what we do, these damn things won't go down! Hulk has pulled them in half, Tony has taken their legs off. They just keep fighting!" The sound of something large impacting metal is followed by the sound of Clint cursing and Foggy groans in sympathy for his friends.

"The helmet! Take the helmet off and they die or de-animate or whatever."

"How the HELL do you know that, Fog!? I thought you said you were -safe-?!" 

"I -am-, Matt. I'm helping some people -- holy hell!" Foggy barely has time to jump backward, his mobile falling to the ground as he dodges a warhammer. He hisses as the hammer comes down on top of his phone, destroying it. Well, so much for -not- worrying his friends.

He stumbles backward, dodging again, trying to keep himself between the armor and the people. He is not so foolish or delusional as to think he stands a chance, not in the long run. But he will do whatever it takes, risk all of him self if he must.

He dodges again, tripping over him self as he struggles to get the warhammer up.

"Foggy." He has never been so happy to hear someone say his name as he is in this moment. The Hulk seems to drop out of nowhere, landing on the back of the armor and driving It into the cement of the sidewalk. "NO!" The bestial, gravelly roar of that single word sends a shiver down his spine. With a sickening crunch and twist of tearing metal, Hulk rips the helmet off and tosses it to the side with a faint sneer. 

Once the armor has gone still, Hulk swings around to Foggy and advances on him. Instantly, on the level of instinct only a truly trusting person can achieve, Foggy drops the warhammer and watches the Avenger advance. He gasps in surprise when Hulk grabs him by the hips and lifts him until they're nose to nose.

"Foggy. Fine?" It's odd .. surreal, even, to hear such deep concern in that guttural voice. Without hesitation, Foggy reaches out to squeeze Hulk's shoulders.

"I'm alright, Big Guy. Thanks for the help, my man. Now come on. We gotta get these people to safety." Hulk huffs and pulls him into an almost crushing hug before setting him on his feet again.

"Kids, come here." He smiles as the two step up. "This is my friend, Hulk, the Avenger. He's going to carry you, okay?" When the other grownups launch into disagreement, he actually snarls to get their attention. "Hulk is my -friend- and he is literally the BEST choice to protect these kids so don't you start with me! I trust Hulk with all of my heart. He will keep the kids safe." He bends to pick the warhammer up, huffing a soft breath before squaring his shoulders. "I'll lead. That way, everything has to come through me and you all will be safe." He doesn't give anyone the chance to argue, he simply leads the way.

* * *

Half an hour later, Foggy has taken out four more sets of armor. He can barely lift his feet for each step, let alone wield the large hammer, but he isn't about to give up. 

Hulk roars as two suits of armor cut him off from Foggy and the others. With an angry howl, he throws himself at the creatures, taking one out on the first swing. Unfortunately, he's so worn out and hurting, that he tips over and falls flat on his stomach, leaving himself open to attack. 

He has just enough time to beg God to be nicer to Matt and cut him some fucking SLACK already, and to pray that Bruce won't blame himself before the warhammer is descending toward his back. He sucks in a breath and waits. He won't scream, won't cry, won't curl up and try to make himself smaller.

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HIM!!" Foggy has never heard Matt sound so crazed, desperate, furious, or murderous. He also has never been so happy at the thought of Matt being Daredevil because he knows that his best friend is about to tear something up to defend him.

Matt connects both feet with the side of the armor, ensuring that the warhammer misses Foggy before he rebounds with a throaty growl. He literally kicks the helmet off the armor before descending on his friend. He easily yanks Foggy to his feet, his lips twisted in a frantic, unhappy snarl beneath the cowl.

"This is not -fine-, Foggy and it sure as hell isn't -SAFE-! This isn't even safe by -my- definition of the word, Franklin!" If this situation were marginally different, he would totally be celebrating this moment of self-awareness breakthrough for his best friend because this is the first time Matt had ever really admitted that his thought process is jank, but there are more important things to worry about at the moment.

"You did NOT just go first name on me, Daredevil! Especially when I can't return the favor, you horned pain in my ass!" They 'look' each other in the face for about five seconds before making almost identical wounded sounds and yanking each other into painfully tight, desperate hugs.

"God, Fog, I .. I thought... your phone went dead and I thought you .. fuck! Is this how it feels .. knowing I'm out there?" Matt has pressed the hard ridge of his cowl's nose against Foggy's neck and it is going to leave a bruise but that's okay. Because this is real. They have waded through hell and this is real 

"Not gonna lie. Yeah .. yeah, it is, buddy. But you're so much more capable than me, but you also have to understand ... I couldn't just walk away. They needed me." He can feel Matt's muscles coiling under his arms, knows that his best friend wants to protest, but won't. Because then he would have to consider what being Daredevil costs and Foggy knows he's not ready for that.

Before Matt can say anything, the other Avengers have arrived, followed closely by the loud, angry screech of various sirens. So Foggy and Matt separate and Matt parkours away.

When Foggy manages to pull himself together and turn around, the Avengers are staring at Hulk in silent awe. He's standing close to Foggy's neighbors with a sleeping child cradled in each arm. Foggy actually has to fight not to aww. Instead, he walks up to the green gargantuan and reaches up to take the first child and pass it off, then the second.

"Thanks, Big Guy. There's no way we would've made it without you, man." And he's not exaggerating or trying to make the man feel better. He means it with all that he is. Had Bruce not shown, Foggy would've fallen from exhaustion a lot sooner. He owes Bruce Banner his life, along with the lives of his neighbors.

"Franklin. Percy. Nelson." He cringes and turns slowly to see a scowling Clint, frowning Steve, and a slightly frazzled Bucky. All three are cross armed and glaring and combined, they're -almost- as scary as Mama Nelson.

Almost.

"What is up with the name tonight? Franklin was bad enough, but now you bust out with the full name, Hawkeye?" He fights down the childish desire to hiss and stick his tongue out at the older man.

"My bad, Fog, but it's second nature to break out the full name when my little brother almost gives me a heart attack!" Clint rushes forward and swoops him into a hug that he barely has time to return before Clint pulls back ... and promptly Gibbs smacks him up the backside of his head. "Don't scare me like that again, asshole!" Foggy smiles sheepishly before turning to look at the other two.

"Sorry, guys, but I had to! They needed me. I couldn't just leave them there and walk away." Bucky is the first to break. He nods curtly, punches Foggy lightly on the shoulder, and walks away.

Steve is unreadable. His features shadowed even as he uncrosses his arms.

"You're my hero, Fog." There is no anger, no mocking or teasing. Every word is earnest and for a moment there, Foggy forgets how to breathe. "See you in a little bit, guys. I have a meeting to get to."

(Of course, Foggy doesn't realize that Steve's meeting is with a near hysterical Matt. Time for the two of them to freak out over Foggy nearly dying.)

Once Steve is gone, Foggy turns back to Clint. Who is now very much -ignoring- him. Foggy huffs and walks up to him, yelping when Clint turns his back to him. 

"Foggy." Both men jump at the sound of Hulk who lumbers up to them with a chuffed growl. Before he can think to respond, the Avenger has lifted him like a ragdoll and easily tossed him over his shoulder.

"Hulk! What are you doing? Put Foggy down! Bad Avenger! Bad!" Foggy facepalms and glares at Clint from over Hulk's shoulder.

"Oh my God, do NOT talk down to him, Clint! I--" Foggy's words end in a shrill yelp when Hulk leaps up, onto the side of a building and takes off in the direction of Avengers Tower.

* * *

Foggy probably isn't as surprised as he should be at being carried up the side of the Tower King Kong style to where a window is easily pried open to allow him and Hulk to enter. Nor is he that surprised when Hulk almost delicately lays him at the foot of the bed and moves to squat uncomfortably in a corner. 

"Oh wow. I just.. I gotta squee for a second here, man. I am in Bruce Banner's -bedroom-! I mean, how insane is that?! The only thing that could beat this would be .. well, Steve's room." Foggy snorts softly at the thought of ever ending up in the bedroom of Captain America.

(Across town at Fogwells gym, Steve's ears ring mysteriously because the very thing he had wanted was now being joked about. He'd probably break down into ugly crying if he knew what Foggy had just said.)

Meanwhile, the still hunched Hulk is looking at Foggy oddly because he's so calm. He's acting as if a large, green mutant creature hadn't just kidnapped him and is now hovering in a corner. He's acting as if Hulk is -normal- and that means so much to the Avenger.

"You know .. it's a little weird, you in the corner while I'm taking up your bed. It'd be better with you over here, buddy. We could sit and talk or something. What do you think?" Foggy watches Hulk stare almost unseeing and it makes him shift a little uncomfortably on the bed.

It takes far too long for him to understand what's going on. To realizes that Hulk is 'stuck' and that's what's keeping him curled in a corner. So, he ignores the searing pain of his aching muscles and forces himself to this feet. 

"Right, then. You just stay right there, big guy, and I'll be right back." He offers up his sweetest, most charming smile, though even that action is mutinously painful, before he stumbles out of the room in search of something.

Well, several somethings. 

He is now a man on a mission ... Operation Coddle Bruce. He has a feeling the Avenger hasn't had much of that.

So after half an hour, he comes waltzing back in to Bruce's room, laden with goodies that make his already aching arms scream in pain. But even now, he's wearing that easy grin he's known for.

It evaporates immediately when he sees Hulk pacing around the room like a caged animal. His massive knuckles are even dragging across the floor every few paces until he hears Foggy come back into the room. He whirls around and lifts his top lip in a feral snarl but Foggy pays him no mind.

(Both Matt and Steve would likely yank Foggy right out of the room and scream themselves hoarse over Foggy's nonchalant attitude toward the dangerous creature. Clint would slap him on the back, congratulate him in the size of his balls, and THEN get him out of the room ASAP and lecture him for being stupid.)

"Right, then. I'm guessing you're kinda stuck as you are, Bruce. Which suggests to me that you need to relax. So. Here's what's gonna happen, Big Guy. You're gonna do just like you did at my place, okay? You're gonna plop your butt down at the foot of the bed." He juts his chin in that direction even as he settles the things in his hands onto a semi-cluttered desk. 

When he glances over his hunched shoulder, Hulk is still silently snarling at him. At the same time, however, the massive man is edging slowly toward the spot Foggy has asked him to occupy. He doesn't bother hiding his little grin of triumph. 

"Thanks, man. You're doing me a real solid, Bruce. It's been a long ass day and it's good to be able to rest a bit." He lights a candle he found in a bathroom and the soothing scent of lemon lavender begins to trickle around the room. Hulk's nose wrinkles and crinkles, but he doesn't make any objection. 

Foggy is SOO counting that a win!

"You know you saved our lives, don't you, Bruce?" He keeps his voice soft and conversational, despite the building wave of emotions roaring through him. It's not the first time he's almost died recently, which is NOT a thought he'd ever have, but it had the potential to be the most gruesome. The thought of being beat to death ... he struggles hard to keep his calm because this is about what -BRUCE- needs, not him. 

He walks carefully across the room and isn't in the least bit surprised to find The Pajamas hanging in the closet. He grabs them out and places them on the desk, too.

"So. I know you're capable of talking, even if it seems a little hard for you. But don't worry, I'm not gonna ask you to, like, hold a conversation or anything. Just. Uhm. Tell me if this borders on bad touch territory at any point, okay?" He doesn't give the Avenger time to answer, or even really question what's going on before he acts. 

He moves so that he's carefully knelt on the foot of the bed. Tentatively, he reachs out to rest his palms on the hulking, tensed shoulders. The Avenger goes rigid, shoulders near snapping point as his eyes dart around wildly 

"It's okay, Big Guy. Just chill out, relax, and lemme help, ok?" It takes far too long for Foggy to stumble on the realization that he's using his Murdock voice from college. The same non-threatening, coaxing tone he used to use on Matt to get him to surface from studying long enough to eat or hydrate. Even socialize on rare occasions. 

Carefully, so very -carefully-, he begins to knead at the large, brutally taut muscles under his hands. Presses his palms firmly down before working his finger pads deep. Hulk is practically vibrating as he chuffs, bordering on hyperventilating, as each breath puffs from his snarled lips.

In fact, each heaving breath almost makes it feel as if the Avenger is a wild animal struggling to either break free or go limp and play dead. An odd display of fight or flight instinct, given the fact that the Hulk could pound him into the ground with a single, simple flick of his wrist.

"You're doing so good, buddy. It's going to be okay. I promise, Bruce." He had meant the words to be sincere, but light. Instead, they're earnest and far more emotional than he intended... but he means it for all that he's worth. "You know you're safe now .. right?" He's not sure where the question came from but he knows that it's the right thing to ask.

Hulk instantly goes loose, limp, and trusting. It hits Foggy dead center of the heart, knowing that Hulk has relaxed like that. It doesn't prepare him for what the Avenger -says-, though.

"Foggy. Safe." Each word is painstakingly enunciated and Foggy finds himself biting back a surprised sob. Because Hulk just associated -HIM- with safety. Puny little him ... synonymous with -SAFE-. 

"Always, Bruce." He digs deep again, palming the now relaxed muscles one more time. Just as he starts to pull back, he experiences a weird sensatation that both freaks him out and fascinates him.

It starts with the roiling coil of muscles.

(He remembers watching a YouTube video of a man suffering snake venom. The way the muscles jumped and spasmed beneath the skin .. That's what it feels like.)

And then the thick schnick of bone plates shifting and reforming. Shrinking to fit Bruce's every day frame.

"F-Foggy." Bruce gasps his name moments before Foggy carefully gathers him up, onto the bed.

"I'm right here, Bruce. I gotcha." Foggy reaches out to grab the comforter, pulling it around Bruce's shoulders.

"Thank you." It's a little odd, hearing that soft voice after the booming gravel it had been.

"No problem,  Bruce. Come on." Foggy slips off the bed and holds the Pajamas up, watching with no small amount of amusement as Bruce blushes a bit. "Go on, go get changed. You'll be more comfy."

"But... these are yours. Shouldn't you ..?" Foggy softens and shakes his head.

"I've got something to change into. You go ahead." Bruce clumsily takes the Pajamas, rushing off to change. Meanwhile, Foggy changes into a pair of sweats he got from Clint's room, and a comfy dark red hoodie he got from Steve's room. When Bruce returns, Foggy grins sweetly at him and holds out a giant, wide mug.

"Here you go, buddy. Mama Nelson 's homemade hot cocoa. Just the thing to help nerves. She used to make this for all us kids when we had big tests or something nerve wracking coming up. It's an old Mayan recipe." He grins as Bruce takes the mug, sniffing gingerly at the aromatic steam. 

"Smells good." Bruce manages to murmur the words moments before his jaws crack open in a large, exhausted yawn. Foggy cannot help the wave of affection he feels 

"I'm glad. Get some of that into you and then I'd say you've earned yourself a nice, long nap." Foggy struggles to hide a wince as he sips at his own cocoa. Each move of his arms hurt. Causes a deep, burning ache in his muscles and leaves him wanting to writhe in agony. But there isn't time for that.

"Hmmm." When Foggy glances at Bruce, he's hard pressed not to coo or something. Bruce has gone adorably fuzzy, all mellow and soft around the edges. His eyes are closed to half mast, his lips dark and shiny with cocoa. He looks positively feline as he absently rubs his cheek across the warm material on his shoulder.

Foggy wants to snuggle him to bits and never let go. He reaches out with a warm smile to take the mug and carry it back to the desk. He then walks back and gently tucks Bruce into the bed.

"Sleep for as long as you need, Bruce. You've earned it." He's just turned from the bed when he feels a hand tentatively wrap around his wrist. Bruce is looking up at him with a heartbroken frown that makes Foggy so very uncomfortable.

" .. you know you're a hero too, right, Foggy? Everything you did tonight ... who's gonna take care of you?" Honestly, Foggy hasn't given it much thought. He's tired, in more pain than he can ever remember suffering before, and that -includes- the shrapnel from the bombs ... and he officially doesn't have a place to call home.

But all of that is for tomorrow. Tonight, he just wants to make sure his friend is okay.

"Eh, don't worry about me, big guy. I'm just fine. Sweet dreams, Bruce." He flashes a tired but earnest smile before he ducks out of the room.

He curls up on the couch in the living room, eyes snapped closed as he sinks into some semblance of sleep. His people are safe, Bruce is sleeping peacefully, and right this moment, there's nothing to worry about. 

For the first time in a while, Foggy falls asleep with a smile on his face.


	5. Winter Born

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I went on vacation and spent most of my time trying to finish this chapter. It got huge on me. Hope everyone enjoys! ^_^
> 
> Not the kindest to Karen in this chapter, but sometimes she just really rubs me the wrong way.

Foggy doesn't wake up on the couch as he expected to. He vaguely remembers falling asleep with his knees tucked to his chest, hurting from his head to his toes. He then remembers someone picking him up bridal style and carrying him to a room with a mattress and set of silk sheets that would make Matt weep for how soft and decadent they are.

(Which makes sense, because of -course- Tony Stark would be able to outfit the Tower with the best of things.)

All he can really recall is long hair and a bit of a wry chuckle when he thanked his mysterious carrier. Beyond that, the entire night feels like some fever dream he never wants to have again. He is a most reluctant hero, just so very happy that everyone is alright. 

He awakens with a start, his natural groan morphing into a sound of profound pain as his body screams in protest of movement. How the hell does Matt function on a regular basis feeling like this!? And Foggy isn't even actually -wounded-. He has both a new respect for Matt and a little deeper dislike for what his best friend does.

With a barely suppressed whimper, he manages to climb out of the heavenly bed and squint around the room. High dollar blackout curtains do very little to shed light on an approximate time, so he cannot hazard a guess about such a thing. Instead, he stumbles across the luxurious room, huffing as he searches for a light switch.

"If you do not mind, Mr. Nelson, I shall shed a little light for you." The somewhat sweet but sultry British voice catches Foggy off guard, causing him to jump in surprise. 

"Jesus H. Christ, Jarvis! Don't scare me like that, man. But yes please, and thank you." Once the room is flooded with a peaceful light, Foggy doesn't feel as out of sorts. "And please, call me Foggy." He feels a little odd, telling a disembodied voice to use his preferred name. 

"My apologies, Foggy. I did not mean to startle you. It is currently 10:19 in the morning and I am afraid that you are the only one awake. The rest of the team are still resting." The -rest- of the team? It feels almost as if he has been slapped in the face ... because that sounds an awful lot like he is being -included- in a way that makes no sense to him. "Though please, allow me to be the first to congratulate you. Hawkeye informed me that you were the one to discover the weakness of the constructs. Well done, sir." Huh. For the most part, Foggy has never really gone out of his way to secure the approval of that many people. Though he does have a natural talent for drawing attention to himself and accepts positive reactions. 

So then, why does he find himself practically preening under the modest praise of an AI?

"That's not really anything to congratulate me on, Jarvis. I'm just glad that Bruce got there in enough time and that everyone was alright." He nearly folds under the weight of that truth. As far as he's concerned, he owes Bruce his -life-. They all do. Suddenly, the little bit of care he offered the scientist the night before seems woefully inadequate.

"Quite the contrary, Foggy. I believe there are many things to congratulate you on, sir. First and foremost, you were able to keep an entire group of civilians safe until backup arrived. You took down several of the constructs single handedly while keeping said civilians safe. You went above and beyond, Foggy, in a way not many would. You are a very worthy asset." As great as it is, being praised, it's making him uncomfortable and even beginning to verge on annoying. Though he knows he's not, it almost feels as if he's being mocked.

"Thank you, Jarvis. But, if you'll excuse me, I need to clean up, man." He smiles at the room in general, despite being pretty sure that Jarvis isn't perving on him or anything.

* * *

It takes him nearly 45 minutes to get undressed, showered, and then dressed in a pair of ungodly comfortable black cotton pants and a dark blue hoodie that had been left for him. He hasn't the foggiest who they originally belonged to, but they are totally -his- now. 

(He secretly hopes that they belong to Clint so that he can pay him back for his previous clothing theft. Though, the hero-worship side of himself kinda also hopes they belong to Steve, because of the obvious reasons.)

He buries his face gently in the front of the hoodie, finding no end of comfort from the texture of the material, even the gentle scent of the detergent and fabric softener used on it does wonders for his current state. In fact, though his pain is not gone, it feels manageable now! Which is why his next stop is the kitchen of the Tower.

Humming to himself, he has taken over the kitchen and proceeded to make a mess. However, he fully believes that the enticing aroma of breakfast makes up for the state of the kitchen. Or at least, he hopes so. The last thing he wants to do is offend the band of superheroes that let him stay the night. He squints into the skillet he's working, humming a particularly sharp note before jumping when he hears someone chuckling behind him.

He spins around, spatula brandished at the ready. The Winter Soldier looks far too amused at his meager attempt to be intimidating, and he's thankful that he isn't outright laughing at him or something. (He knows that he's about as intimidating as a puppy that has yet to open it's eyes, so he really is grateful not to be mocked.)

"Fierce in the morning, are you?" The Soldier practically pours himself onto a stool, limbs coltish and unwieldly in his half asleep state. He props his cheek up on his flesh hand, the mechanical once tucked close against his stomach as he leans against the island. 

"Bitch, please, I am -always- fierce. -Not- just in the mornings." Foggy has all of three seconds to contemplate the life choices that lead him to calling THE WINTER SOLDIER a bitch, before the man in question chuckles.

"Yeah. I can believe that." Foggy's mouth drops open in what he know to be an unattractive gape, but come on! Somehow, the Winter Soldier didn't kill him, so that is one of the biggest wins right now! "Smells good, Nelson. What's cookin?" He shakes himself out minutely before he turns back to the skillet to finish up. 

"Mama Nelson's breakfast feast, my man. It's the first over-the-top spread my Mom taught me to cook." He grins lightly as he thinks about his Mom. The first time he had talked Matt into coming home with him, his best friend had gained something like 8 pounds. Foggy, being the wonderful friend he is, teased him for two months.

"Are you still close with her?" The question takes him by surprise, since he's used to his friends knowing all about his family situation. 

"Oh hell yeah, man. I'm close with the entire Nelson clan, and I do not use that word lightly." He snickers as he allows himself a few minutes to dwell on thoughts of his ginormous family. "In the core family, there's Mom and Dad, me, my four sisters, my two brothers and so many pets it's not even funny. Then, there are 15 kids between my brothers and sisters, a load of uncles, aunts, and cousins." He ticks them all off in his head before he laughs and turns the stove off. "All told, there were 52 relatives in the area, last I knew. And that's not counting any family that moved out of state." When he turns back around, Bucky's mouth is hanging open, his hands flexing as he stares at him.

"S-seriously? There are -that- many Nelsons around? Are they all like you?" He tries not to take that the wrong way, he really does. But shortly before they broke up, Marci had asked something similar and it had -not- been in a good or kind way. It had been sarcastic and mean in that shark-like way of hers. He tries to shake it off, but he can feel himself tensing.

"I mean, I guess? We're all related, so we share some aspects of personality, but there's only one me, so I'm not really sure how to answer that." He shifts uncomfortably on his socked feet, biting at the inside of his cheek as he waits for whatever the response might be.

"Hmm .. so, what would be the chances of me marrying into your family?" About the only way he could be more gobsmacked, would be if Steve waltzed in and kissed him. Or, you know, if Matt showed up and pledged his troth or something just as insane. 

"I .. what ..." Foggy stumbles through his words, before he shakes himself out and adopts his favorite playful smile. "Sorry, dude, but you don't really want to marry into my family, man. The only unwed relatives are me, my underage nieces, nephews, cousins, and my Uncle Dwayne." He turns, moving to grab plates.

"So .. what I'm hearing .. is that you're an eligible bachelor." Foggy curses a colorful streak when a plate tumbles out of his hand and lands on his foot. Luckily, it doesn't break. 

"You .. what ... what!?" His mind refuses to process what's been said. Just what the what?!

"Whatever you did, fix it, soldier-boy. It's far too early for a broken Foggy." Not surprising, even first thing in the morning, Natasha is perfectly put together and Foggy would probably be hitting on her -shamelessly- if he had the mental power needed to do so. "Oh, wow .. you actually -did- break him! Do -not- make me take a hit out on you, Barnes. Fix. It." 

The impressive glare-off between Black Widow and the Winter Soldier might be the second hottest thing he's ever seen. But he's still stuck in that look of utter disbelief.

"Uh, what's wrong with Fog?" Right up until Captain America walks into the room in nothing but a pair of dark blue cotton pajama pants that are slung low enough on his hips, Foggy can see the definition of his hiplines. Plus, you know, shirtless Cap is just -damn-. 

(Matt shirtless and sleep rumpled is still 100x hotter, but Steve is a close second.)

"Barnes here -broke- him and in about three minutes I'm going to call a few of my old associates and put a hit on him." Steve goes from sleepy to wide awake and functioning in a matter of seconds, glaring and hissing at his best friend.

"Fix it, Bucky. Whatever you did, -fix it- because I can guarantee you, she isn't playing! Last year, Clint ended up in the hospital because he failed to take her serious. Three different techno-assassins have been foiled trying to infiltrate and take out Jarvis because he made her mad. If I hadn't interfered, she was even prepared to pit a hit squad against Hulk. You will be a -milk- run to her." 

Oh, okay ... everything suddenly makes -so- much sense to Foggy!

..... the Avengers are all insane. See, once you have that key piece of information, it all falls into place. He also now understands why he seems to fit in among this odd group of people.

"All I did was ask Foggy if he were an eligible bachelor. I wasn't expecting ... whatever this is." The kitchen goes silent as Steve and Natasha turn to face him, expectant looks on their achingly beautiful features.

"Well? Aren't you going to answer, Foggy?" Natasha actually flutters her lashes playfully and Steve leans just a little bit closer and in what world is this -actually- happening!? He can feel himself getting warm all over, knows that his complexion is showing just how deeply he's blushing as three of the hottest Avengers wait expectantly for an answer he doesn't really want to give. It's painfully obvious he's single, and just as obvious that he'll probably remain that way for the foreseeable future because it's really hard to enter into a relationship with anyone when he's pining. Like, -mega- levels of pining. 

"I .. uhm ... I mean .. it's not really ... I just .. I ..." He stutters and splutters, somehow managing to blush even more as he awkwardly stares from face to face. He actually has to battle down the desire to blurt out I'M IN LOVE WITH DAREDEVIL at the top of his lungs. Sure, it might get them to take a step back and let him breathe, but it could also easily get back to Matt/Daredevil and that is a whole lotta not gonna happen! He has done very well to conceal these sticky, messy emotions so that their friendship is preserved, and he intends to keep it that way! 

"Oh my god, it's too early for this! Whoever broke Foggy is getting their head served up on a silver platter!" The high pitched, groggy whine of Tony Stark is enough to snap Foggy back into the present. He turns and grabs a mug, filling it with coffee and when he turns around, Tony is making pathetic grabby hands at the cup, his eyes barely even open. "You're officially my hero, Foggy." They exchange friendly smiles before Foggy walks around the island and settles on a chair. He prides himself on trying to be as unshakable as possible, but when Tony follows him, settles, and then lays his cheek on his shoulder, Foggy actually EEPS loudly and barely manages not to flail right off the chair. And he only manages that because he is such a gentleman, that he cannot fathom accidentally taking Tony freakin' Stark down with him. 

"So! What did this band of ragamuffins do to break you, Nelson? Did .. did I actually just say ragamuffins? Huh. I still surprise myself." Foggy shifts a little bit, making sure not to dislodge the sleepy superhero.

"Apparently, Bucky asked Foggy if he is an eligible bachelor, and you interrupted him answering. So, kindly shut up and let him get on with it." Natasha glares at Tony before turning her expectant gaze back on Foggy and he feels a little put on the spot. And a -lot- embarrassed. When even Tony rolls his head enough that he can eye him, Foggy knows that he doesn't really have a choice. They're not going to drop this, and who is he to out stubborn -the Avengers-!? He draws in a deep, careful breath, before sighing softly and letting his eyes close. 

".. yeah, I'm a bachelor. But no, I'm not eligible. Now, if you're all done putting me on the spot ... I hope you enjoy breakfast." He carefully eases Tony's head off his shoulder before he turns and leaves the kitchen. It's not a strop, not him having a fit or anything like that. It is, however, a strategic retreat from a situation he'd really rather not think about right now, thank you very much. 

He is halfway back to the room he had been given for the night when something grabs his arm and he barely manages not to shriek. That little scene in the kitchen has left him feeling on edge and that has never been a good place for him to be because he knows that sooner or later, he'll fall right over. 

"What?" He snaps the word out, his voice creaking with weariness. Not that surprising, he's still tired and in pain. He blinks, seeing Bucky looking caught somewhere between wrecked and utterly apologetic. 

"I'm sorry, Fog. For doing that. For .. pushing like that, and for everyone going along with it. I didn't mean anything by it. Your situation is your own and I never should've intruded on it like that. Forgive me?" Despite the rumors surrounding the Winter Soldier, Foggy has never really considered him a -bad guy-. A lot of bad things were done to him and he cannot hold any of it against the man. But still, he finds himself a little shocked at the depth of earnest hope for forgiveness in the man before him. It reminds him of the moments of vulnerability Matt sometimes shows, when he is afraid that he has somehow diminished himself in Foggy's eyes. 

"Bucky .." He sighs the nickname, not for a moment considering that he might not have the -right- to use it. "Really, there's nothing to forgive, man. It's a joke that got taken too far. It happens." He does not feel as carefree and calm as he is trying to seem, but hopes that he's pulling it off. All he wants to do is slip back into the borrowed room and burrow under the sinful sheets to spend some time alone with his broken heart.

"Foggy?" Bucky looks almost lost and confused, though Foggy cannot understand why. Doesn't see that Bucky had been truthful about the question of his bachelorhood. Foggy shakes his head quickly, rubbing his hand against his cheek as he sighs.

"Just .. drop it, okay? It's nothing, man. I'll see you later." With a final, stiff smile, he turns and finishes his retreat to the borrowed room, leaving a broken, frowning Winter Soldier behind.

* * *

Foogy is surprised to find himself waking up again, because he's not really the type to nap. But, given everything that's happened, it makes sense that he needs more rest than he usually would. It takes almost three full minutes for him to realize that the only reason he's awake, is because someone knocked at his door. He stumbles toward it, cursing under his breath when he runs into the solid object before he manages to get it open. 

"You alright there, kid?" Tony Stark is dressed to the nines in a suit more expensive than Foggy's apartment had been, and he's holding a small, bright pink gift bag with gaudy rainbow colored tissue paper sticking out of the top. 

"Yeah. Just .. not used to the room. Thanks, by the way. For letting me stay here for the day. I can probably find some place tomorrow, or at least, somewhere else to stay." His words draw a deep, displeased frown across Stark's handsome features and how in the world has he managed to anger the Avenger so quickly?? 

"Or .. you can stop talking bullshit and stay here, Nelson. There's no reason for you to go somewhere else, no reason to rush off. You are our -friend- and we care about you, kid. So, stay here as long as you need. And, speaking of things you need, I picked you up a little something ... and then modified it to high heaven and back. You're welcome." Foggy shifts from foot to foot before he takes the gift bag and pulls out a phone he could never afford, chuckling when he glances at the case. It's split down the middle, Iron Man on the left, Captain America on the right.

"So, putting aside the fact that I am an obvious fan boy and make no bones about it ... did you -really- have to get me such a fanwank case??" Not that he's complaining. In the least. Karen won't remark on it, and Matt can't, so it's not as if he expects any real teasing for it.

"That is a one-of-a-kind case, Nelson. There are Iron Man cases, there are Captain America cases, but the two are not produced on the same case. That is all yours." Oh, wow. Just .. wow ...

Given the fact that he was just handed a one-of-a-kind piece of memorabilia, he cannot be held responsible for his actions! He sort of .. lunges. Wraps both arms around the Avenger and pulls him into a full bodied, Nelson-bear-hug, causing the Avenger to yelp in surprise. And yet, Stark doesn't try and pull away or anything. He actually snorts in amusement, patting Foggy awkwardly on the shoulder when he lets him go.

"I'm glad it meets your approval. Now, if you'll excuse me. I have a day of being awesome ahead. See you later, Nelson." Foggy chuckles despite himself, waving goodbye even as he stares down at the phone. He steps back into the room long enough to grab his sim card and slips it into the phone with a happy sound. Once everything is set, he texts Matt and Karen, then he heads into the kitchen, stopping abruptly when he sees Clint and Natasha standing off against each other, the island between them. 

"Wow ... such deadly glares should not look so damn sexy. I'm jealous." The off-hand joke seems to snap through the tension in the room, causing both Avengers to jump minutely in surprise, turning to stare open-mouthed at Foggy. Clint is actually -blushing- and Natasha's hands are fidgeting ever so slightly. 

"Seriously, Foggy? Who just says that?" Natasha sounds half fond, half exasperated. He grins and dips a flourishing bow.

"Me. Duh. I have, like, no filter, pretty lady! Unless I'm working. Then I have the best filter one could ever hope for. But every day life? Yeah, no. Why bother? Life's way too short." He flashes her his brightest smile and she returns it with a half upturning of her mouth that screams of more truth than a grin would have. He wants to do a little victory jig but contrary to Karen's popular belief, he -does- have at least a little decorum. "Now! Why are my two dears fighting, hmm?" He glances between them, and suddenly, neither of them want to meet his eye. Oh. Okay. "Wow .. so I just became the elephant in the room, huh? My bad. So, let me do one thing, and then I will gladly take my leave and you two can duke it out. Just know, that whoever wins has to clean up the mess and whoever loses has 24 hours of free hugs, Nelson-style. Just saying." 

Twin splutters of disbelief are issued and he doesn't even try to be anything but smug about it.

"Wait, so what's the incentive to win here? I think I actually want to lose this one." Natasha huffs and crosses her arms, turning her glare on Foggy and he can't do anything but continue to grin.

"Exactly. Since there's no incentive to win, there's no incentive to fight. Problem solved."

"I think I walked in on the wrong side of this conversation. What's this about 24 hours of free hugs?" Bucky's voice comes out of nowhere, and Foggy isn't too self conscious to admit that he jumps and yelps in surprise. When Bucky smirks in that way of his that's half boyish, half devilish, Foggy's heart quickens momentarily. But it doesn't last. The momentary thrill is nothing in comparison to the way Matt makes him feel.

"Clint and Natasha were in the middle of a fight. So, I set up the rule .. that the winner has to clean up the mess and the loser gets 24 hours of free hugs, Nelson-style." Bucky blinks before frowning in confusion.

"... who would want to -win- that fight?" Foggy snickers and bobs his head.

"Exactly. Best way to end it before it begins. Clever, huh?" Bucky's frown draws deeper, and he reaches his good hand up to brush his long hair out of his eyes.

"Sound logic." Bucky about faces suddenly and walks back out of the kitchen, leaving the three occupants befuddled. 

"... is he always like that?" Foggy turns to look at the other two, quirking a brow when Clint huffs a bit of a laugh.

"What, all broody and mysterious? Yup. Get used to it, Nelson. If you're living here, we've all got quirks you gotta get used to." Clint actually reaches out and -tugs a few strands of Foggy's hair-, causing him to squeak and jerk backward.

"... seriously!? If that had been a pigtail, we'd be having some words, Legolas." Clint flips him off before exiting the room, Natasha following after before Foggy can come up with a rejoinder. Honestly, he will never bad mouth his siblings again. At least they were halfway sane!

* * *

Two Missed calls from Matt, 1 Missed Call from Karen

Texts from Karen: Have you forgotten about us, Foggy? Answer your phone!

Matt's doing that kicked puppy look again. What did you do, Foggy?

So, how good is Captain America? Is he everything I dreamed of?

Is Hawkeye as hot in person as he looks on the news?

Has Natasha kicked your ass yet?

* * *

Foggy will forever maintain that this is -not- his fault! He would go so far as to swear that under oath! Because honestly, he -tried- to do the right thing. Despite the perfect fanboy phone and the welcoming insanity of the Avengers, he really did look into getting a place while he waits for his apartment to be fixed. However, every time he brought up the topic of conversation, whichever Avenger was in earshot acted as if he had personally insulted their lineage or something. It always ended with them glaring him into submission and him slinking away with some mumbled apology. 

After three days of Matt calling him incessantly to make sure that he's okay and to promise that he has everything handled at the office, Karen calling to gasp breathlessly and demand all the gossip of cohabiting with Avengers, the Avengers themselves hovering in an oddly protective way, and Jarvis sounding off at the most squeak-worthy moments, Foggy has ... lost his ever-loving mind.

Just a little bit.

Which is why he's currently covered from head to toe in water, laughing at the top of his lungs as Clint, Natasha, Tony, and to the surprise of -everyone-, Bucky, chase him through the first floor of the Tower. Much like him, they are all dressed comfortably, soaking from head to toe. Bucky, however, is the wettest of the group.

"You know, for a soldier, you kinda suck at this, tinlimb!" Stark's usual mocking banter is a little ... different today. It's more playful and less sarcastic, biting edge. Foggy had taken all of a minute and a half to wonder if there was some kind of body switching alien in play, and then spent nearly five minutes fighting down the possibility of a panic attack because oh yeah, ALIENS ACTUALLY EXIST! 

So, given the amount of oddity induced stress in his life at the moment, he had decided that a little downtime is -definitely- in order! Therefore, the lawyer had found himself doing the simplest, easiest thing to blow off a little steam ....... he started a water balloon fight with the Avengers. Because of -course- that made sense to him!

"How is being a soldier supposed to help with this?" Bucky sounds surprisingly dry and acerbic as he barely manages to duck another barrage. Stark and Clint both snicker and sneer at his predicament, and Natasha ... well, the assassin is doing what she does best .... sneaking about. In fact, most of Foggy's current sodden state has been from her sneak attacks rather than the others involved. 

"Pay grouchy-pants no mind, Buck. You're doing just fine." Foggy grins in the direction of the Winter Soldier, before he turns and quickly lobs a balloon at Stark, whooping with childish glee when it explodes across his shoulders and soaks his hair and back. "That's for disparaging Bucky, Stark." He's too busy dodging a balloon from Stark to see the near blush on Bucky's features. 

"Disparaging? Even -Steve- doesn't use words like that and he's -ancient-. Sometimes I worry about you, Fog." Clint actually tuts playfully, causing Foggy to roll his eyes and prepare two balloons. Clint, operating under some false theory, turns and runs toward the first living shield he can find .. a rather annoyed looking Bruce who is stalking into the room with a slightly stormy look to him. 

Foggy takes less than five seconds to assess the situation ... the less than stellar mood of his friend, the smug look on the face of his 'brother', and the way Stark is looking a little wild eyed at the whole scene. Somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Matt is lecturing him for his sad lacking of survival instincts. Because only a crazy person with no self interest in their continued existence would do what he does next. He takes careful aim ... holds for a few moments ..... and then lets fly! 

Bucky, Stark, and Clint all seem to take a collective inhale, eyes wide and emotive as they wait for the inevitable all hell to break loose. The launched balloon smashes across Bruce's chest, wetting his baggy t-shirt clean through. Even his glasses are splattered with water. Clint takes several quick, graceless, stumbling steps back, his entire body tensed and coiled, ready to spring into action the moment Bruce hulks-out and threatens Foggy. 

Even Natasha has suddenly appeared, tensed and ready.

Foggy, however, looks utterly unrepentant, and not the least bit worried. In fact, he's grinning from ear-to-ear in that boyish, beaming way of his. He is completely oblivious to the level of -fear- that the Avengers are experiencing on his behalf. Bruce's features look even stormier for a few moments before he reaches behind him, grabs a balloon from Clint's hand and nails Foggy in the chest with it. Both men stare at each other momentarily before Foggy snickers and Bruce actually smiles.

"Nice aim, big guy!" Foggy wipes his hand across his chin and jaw, wiping away as much of the water as he can. 

"What is going -on- here!?" Steve Rogers will always be a force to be reckoned with, no matter what the situation. So it's no surprised that everyone goes completely still under his huffy, judgemental gaze. Foggy can feel a muscle under his eye jump, and he looks around at his wet friends.

".... retreat!" That single, shouted word has a most curious, hilarious effect. Every one but Steve turns and runs, bumping into each other, tripping over their own feet .. basically, they look like a cartoon gone wrong as they scramble to clear the are, each of them headed toward their rooms to clean up. "Natasha! You won, so clean up is on you, babe!" Foggy puts on an extra burst of speed before the assassin can kill him for his words, and quickly locks himself in his room.

* * *

An hour later, Foggy is feeling warm and content. He's washed up from the water balloon fight, changed into a pair of shorts and a long sleeved hoodie, the hood up for now. He wanders into the living room, grinning lightly. The evidence of their childishness has been cleaned up, though he's about 50% sure that Natasha didn't actually do any of it, but that's okay. He doesn't actually expect his friend to do anything like that.

"Have you guys seen my phone?" He pouts faintly, not having found the device when he was cleaning up. He can't even remember the last time he had it at hand, which is unusual for him. Partially because he always wants to be able to answer if one of his friends need him, and partially because he never knows when he might need to go into work, even if he's technically on vacation while he sorts everything out. 

Natasha glances up from her sprawl on an armchair.

"Haven't seen it Fog, sorry." She sounds almost sleepy as she nestles back against her arm. Clint, taking up more than his fair share of the couch, looks at him upside down, shaking his head lazily.

"Sorry, man, got no clue." Stark doesn't even bother acknowledging him as he shoves Clint's feet off the couch and settles there. Foggy huffs and pouts, even if he would swear no pouting takes place. 

"Do you -ever- have a clue?" Bucky interjects with little prompting as he walks into the room, pushing damp hair off his cheek. Foggy immediately grins, rubbing his hands together as he stares the Winter Soldier down.

"So! All of that can totally wait, because there is something else way more important that needs to happen here. Natasha! You are a stellar assassin that kicked all our asses, thus you were supposed to clean up. Which leaves the dispensing of hugs, now." Everyone in the room goes completely still, looking somewhat confused. "Did some of us not already have this conversation? Winner cleans up, loser gets Nelson-style hugs." He actually glares at each of the Avengers save Bucky, who he openly grins at. "So, come on, soldier-boy." 

Foggy opens his arms wide, barely managing to stop himself before he curls his fingers in a grabby gesture, though he's still beaming at the Winter Soldier. Who looks stuck somewhere between emotionally constipated and RUN FOR YOUR LIFE! Which, of course, makes all kinds of sense. The man is from an era when hugging was pretty much dismissed, let alone between two guys that aren't related or sworn brothers like Bucky and Steve. So, Foggy doesn't take the hesitation to heart or anything.

"Get in here, man. It's not gonna hurt. Promise." Before the Winter Soldier can duck or try to get away, he moves forward. Wraps his arms around the more muscular man. Bucky is rigid, unmoving for the longest time. Long enough for Foggy to think that he has pushed this too far. But then Bucky makes this soft sound that only Foggy is close enough to hear .. a wounded, breathy little sigh. 

That sound kicks Foggy dead center of the heart, reminds him of every pained sound Matty ever made and this whole joke has suddenly become so very serious. His hold loosens and then redoubles, instinctively working Bucky into the fold of his body so that he can hold him more sincerely in the hug. This time, the Winter Soldier melts into the embrace. Carefully, but almost desperately, he wraps his arms around Foggy and the man is hard pressed not to turn and holler at all his friends for not realizing that Bucky needed this. But, he would not be that unfair to them. Will not hold them responsible for someone else falling apart.

"Foggy!" Bruce's voice cuts through the moment and the two men actually jump apart. Foggy looks slightly annoyed and Bucky ... he looks almost guilty, as if he has been caught at something and Foggy cannot understand the look to save his life. Not that he has much time to contemplate it or anything.

"What's up, buddy?" Foggy manages a bit of a smile for the scientist, who looks stuck somewhere between worried and cautiously annoyed.

"I've been texting you .." Foggy groans at those words, reaching up to rub his hand across the back of his head.

"Sorry, man, I can't find my phone. Was just asking Nat and Clint if they've seen it." He still can't believe he managed to misplace the thing! A small part of him isn't that surprised, though, because it makes sense. This is the most relaxed he's been in so long, so of course he managed to lose it. Out of sight, out of mind, right? 

"Seriously? Hang on ..." Bruce pulls his cell out and taps Foggy's contact, the whole group going still and silent, listening.

"I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones  
Enough to make my systems blow  
Welcome to the new age, to the new age  
Welcome to the new age, to the new age  
Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, oh, I'm radioactive, radioactive  
Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, oh, I'm radioactive, radioactive"

If at all possible, the room goes even quieter .. stiller ... as if everyone is holding their breath. When Foggy glances over, he actually winces at the look of horror that crosses the faces of Clint and Natasha .. the look of stunned disbelief on Bucky's face. Foggy is unrepentant. He doesn't even bother to -pretend- to feel bad for the choice of ringtone he has assigned the Hulk. In fact, he openly grins, wide and enthusiastic.

"... s-seriously, Fog? Man, that's too much even for -me-, brother." Clint's words and tone are gentlely disapproving, and even Natasha looks a little ... chastising, as she glances at him. 

"It's very .. insensitive, Foggy." He half expects her to to tsk or click her tongue like the stereotypical mother hen, even though he knows she's anything but. He feels a momentary stab of confusion and a little bit of unease begins to drift into him. It's only when Bruce throws his head back and ROARS with laughter that Foggy feels okay again. He was fairly sure he knew the scientist well enough and he's happy to have this affirmation.

"Come on, Fog, grab your phone and lets go." Bruce walks out of the room, still grinning uncharacteristically as Foggy walks over to the couch. Without saying a word of warning, he reaches right under Clint's ass, rummaging around under the couch cushion to grab his phone before he heads in the same direction Bruce exited. 

He stops next to Bucky, however, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Any time you need a hug, Buck .... -any- time." He breathes the words no louder than a soft whisper, for the ears of the Winter Soldier only, before he heads out of the room.

* * *

3 Missed calls from Karen, 2 Missed calls from Matt

Texts from Karen: Are the Avengers really better than us, Foggy?

Foggy.

Foggy.

FOGGY!

Fine. I get it. All those superheroes, one tower. Hope they're worth it.

* * *

It's the middle of the night. 

....

It's the middle of the night and someone is knocking on Foggy's door and he's pretty sure that despite the pillow lines on his cheek, the wild bedraggled muss of his hair, and the sleepy-half-mast quality of his eyes, that his expression reads as murderous. Because he's pretty sure he could commit homicide at the moment and claim temporary insanity for being woken up IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT!!

He nearly rolls off the side of the bed, but manages to catch himself at the last moment and lever himself to a standing position. As another loud, reverberating knock sounds, he snarls under his breath as he ambles toward the door. Far too tired to try for a normal human pace. Whoever is disturbing him can wait however long it takes him to get there. 

(After all, if this was an -emergency-, he's pretty damn sure his ear would be full of Jarvis' calm, yet insisting voice, rather than some knocking. So, obviously, the world isn't ending right now. Or, worse yet, Matt hasn't been hurt so bad he needs to be notified.)

"Oh my god, what? It is ass crack in the -- Bucky!?" He sucks in a seering, winced breath at the broken, haunted look on the Winter Soldier. It pulls relentlessly at his heartstrings, leaves him short of breath, heart heavy and wrecked. What the hell could reduce one of the strongest men he has ever known, to such a state!? And how the -hell- does he put his meager abilities to the test and kick it's ass!?!

"F...Fog...gy." Even Bucky's voice is broken and cracked and Foggy can feel that need to -protect- taking over. He goes from sleepy to awake in record time. Without asking, he carefully grabs Bucky's elbow and steers him into the room, closing the door behind him. He slaps the light switch, until he hears Bucky hiss at the sudden flood of light. He turns it off immediately, cursing at the darkness but all too prepared to accommodate his friend however he needs to. 

"It's okay, Buddy, I'm right here. It's going to be okay." He adopts the soft, soothing voice he used to use on Matt whenever his best friend was upset in college. Back when they had first started onto the path of best friends and would sometimes set each other off until they had a better understanding of quirks, boundaries, and buttons. It was the voice that Foggy only recently found out, had managed to anchor Matt's super senses when he was having trouble blocking things out. So, he's hoping that something in his tone will help his new friend.

"I .. it ... F..Fo...ggy .." Again, that gut wrenching, heart-pinching sensation washes over him as he guides his friend through the room as best he can. With some slow, steady work, he manages to settle Bucky at the foot of the bed.

"It's okay, Buck. Tell me when you're ready, buddy. Right here. Not going anywhere." And he is surprised to realize that he means it. Sure, a part of him knows that he cannot stay here indefinitely. Avenger's Tower is not the kind of place for him, no matter how much he enjoys staying here. Hell's Kitchen is home, is where he would rather be, but he has no intention of leaving just yet. 

"Foggy ... dreams .. ni..ght...ma..res ... so horrible." Each word is a hitched breath with the capacity to become a full blown sob and why can't that be Foggy's superpower? He will never be able to fight crime the way Matt and Tony do ... never be able to change the landscape of the world like Clint and Natasha .. and come on, Thor is an actual GOD, so he's in a class all his own. So why can't Foggy have the power to coddle and take care of his loved ones? Why can't his superpower be super-support for his beautiful, broken heroes? 

"I gotcha, man. I gotcha." Without warning, without telegraphing his intentions, he has climbed up, onto the bed and positioned himself behind Bucky. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, he knows that it's just plum STUPID to approach a broken weapon without a care to his own safety, but fuck that. Bucky Barnes is his FRIEND and all he can do is offer this. So he's going to offer ever full second of comfort in every way he can. He slides his legs onto either side of Bucky's body, settling him into the V of his form even as he wraps his arms around him from behind. His fingers lace gently against Bucky's stomach and he tugs until the Winter Soldier has allowed his spine to straighten and then sag so that he's reclined against the fleshy fold of Foggy's body, back to chest. He even angles his head so that the back of it comes to rest against Foggy's shoulder. It's such a deep, intimate display of trust that the lawyer finds himself a little shaken up, though he ignores the feeling for now. This isn't about him, it's about Bucky. 

"Just relax, Buck. Slow your breathing, and rest, buddy. You don't have to say anything." Because it occurs to him ... that Bucky and Matt are a hell of a lot alike, and whenever Matt woke up in such disarray after a nightmare, he was reluctant to talk about it. All he seemed to want was to know that Foggy was close, so he's trying to offer the same thing to his new friend.

"...thanks .. F..Foggy ..." His name is a weathered sob and he pulls his friend a little closer. He feels lost, adrift ... unsure what he can do or say to make things better for his friend. After a few moments of strained silence, he sighs. Almost chuckles when the sudden gust of air causes Bucky to shiver a little, but he knows that now would be a wildly inappropriate moment to make such a sound. 

"No problem, Bucky." He lets his eyes close as he combs through his mind, trying to think of something, -anything- to say. "Right before you guys teamed up with Daredevil, my family had one of their gatherings. Since, like, -everyone- came, we -have- to call it a gathering, even if it makes us sound a bit like a cult or something. Granted, we basically -are-, but that's not something we really broadcast, you know?" He can feel Bucky relaxing even more, though he doesn't say anything. And that's okay. Just as long as he's getting comfortable. "We tried to call it a family dinner, once, when we booked a place ... yeah, by the end, two waiters quit and we were calmly asked never to return. Which probably makes us sound like neanderthals or something, but several of the little'un's were teething and three different divorces were going on .. it was a wild time." When Bucky snorts at that, Foggy feels a flicker of warmth deep in his gut. Because he's -proud- that he's pulling the Winter Soldier out of this funk.

"Anyway .. at this last 'gathering,' everyone who lives in state showed up. Even my business partner, Matt, came. He's .. well, frankly, it's hilarious watching him around my family. He, uh .. he's an orphan, has been since he was like 9 or something. He was raised in a Catholic orphanage, so he was totally freaked out the first time he met my entire family. Of course, the fact that he's an adorable, shy little orphan boy was basically just chum in the water, and they spent every second hovering, trying to adopt him. Thing is, it's been over -ten years- and they are -STILL- trying to do it. So at this last gathering, all of my young nieces and nephews were using him like a jungle-gym, my aunts -actually- pinched his cheeks, and I was asked, no less then 31 times, when I was going to settle down and find a wife or husband. 14 of those times were from my Mom alone." 

Bucky startles in surprise when he actually laughs at Foggy's words, no doubt mistaking the truth for a joke. Because it -is- the truth. Every time he sees his Mom now, there are demands to know when he's going to settle down, little jokes and pokes at him about finding someone. No matter how many times he tells her that he's not looking, that he's not -ready- yet, she keeps pushing. It's one of the reasons he is outright avoiding his family at the moment. That, and he's not really sure -how- he's supposed to explain his current status as the Avenger mascot or something. (Plus, there's that part of him that is just waiting to be dropped like a bad habit, and he really doesn't want to get his parents excited about this friendship when he is confident it's destined to end.)

"Thank you, Foggy." Bucky's voice is fuller, no longer so soft and shattered and Foggy just has to snuggle a little closer to him for a moment, forgetting the thought of boundaries as he revels in this little victory. "The nightmares .. they can get pretty bad and I just ... I don't like talking about them. No one else knows how to handle their own stuff, let alone try and handle mine. Steve would help if he could, but ... I used to be his hero. The thought of him seeing me like this ..." Foggy snorts and reaches out to tap Bucky on the cheek, moving so that they can look at each other without pulling apart too much. 

"Bucky, I've seen you like this, and you are -still- my hero, man. You've overcome hell and are still fighting to help other people. You're great, man." He cannot help the earnest tone of voice and the squeeze he gives the older man. "Come on." Before he can protest, Foggy pulls away from him, grasps him by the shoulder and guides him into the bed. 

Oddly, there is no protest or begging off. Bucky just lays out on his side and is asleep within minutes. 

Yeah, the Winter Soldier really does remind him of Matt.

* * *

4 Missed calls from Matt

Texts from Karen: Sorry, Foggy, I shouldn't drink and text.

You never come out with us anymore.

We both miss you.

Foggy.

* * *

The Avengers are spread through the living room. Foggy is laying on the couch, Bucky stretched out in front of him. Everyone had looked at them like they were -crazy- when Foggy wrapped himself around the other man so casually, and Bucky LET him. They had both missed the gutted look on Steve and the suspicious look on Bruce. They were too busy getting comfortable and settling in to watch a most unexpected movie ... Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. See, Clint? This is why you never let Foggy have choice of movie!

Somehow, they manage to make it half way through the movie before Foggy finds himself having to comment. Given his habit of narrating for Matt, it feels weird to be silent for so long. But then, the heavy weight of Bucky pushed against him has a lot to do with his distracted state. 

"Okay, opinion time! Who's the hottest/best character?" He can practically hear Steve shift uncomfortably and feel him blush from the armchair he's stretched out in. Natasha and Clint both snort unattractively from the other couch, and Stark snickers from where he's stretched out on a mattress on the floor. Bruce, sitting on the floor, back pressed against the couch at Foggy's head, snorts as well. Somehow, it's not as unattractive as the other two. More .. endearing. 

"Bingsley is the prettiest, Lizzie is the strongest, Darcy is the proudest, and somehow, Parson Collins is the sassiest." Everyone murmurs various levels of agreement with Bruce's words, though Foggy and Bucky remain silent on the issue. So much so, that everyone turns and -stares- as the two seem to have a conversation with nothing but a few well placed facial expressions. 

"So, basically, Lizzie is Nat, Darcy is Steve, Bingsly is Bucky, and Parson Collins is Tony? Yeah, I can see that." Clint and Bruce both make protesting HEY sounds, even as the others preen. Except for Bucky. He subtly manages to hide his face against Foggy's arm, allowing him to feel the heat in his cheeks, and Foggy can't help but grin.

"I take exception to this!" Clint manages to interject, actively -glaring- at Foggy, which makes him pout playfully over Bucky's head. "How are -you- not one of these characters, Fog? You're strong and a little scary, like Liz, pretty like Bingsly, and that -sass-, yo!" It's Foggy's turn to lean forward and bury his face against the nape of Bucky's neck, blushing profusely as everyone in the room agrees with Clint.

"I am totally not even in the running for this, guys. But come on, back to the movie." The words are more of an order than he intended them to be and he's not even surprised anymore that the others follow that order without any hesitation. He wonders if they even realize that they're doing it, or if it has somehow become second nature to them.

Foggy curls a little tighter around Bucky, remaining quiet for the rest of the movie.

* * *

No Missed calls.

No texts.

* * *

Foggy is sitting at the bar in the kitchen, back aching, cheek resting on his folded arms. He's tired, worn out. Work is intense when he's stuck somewhere between Karen wanting to comment and Matt looking like a perpetually kicked puppy. There are so many bitten off sentences from Karen, who so obviously wants to ask questions but Foggy will not answer them. Which is probably the only reason she's managed to hold her peace for so long. 

And Matt ... he looks on the verge of breaking down, or maybe just breaking apart, and he has no clue WHY. He still has the occasional bruise and he smiles that sweet, charming smile of his, but Foggy knows him well enough to know that -something- is lurking beneath the surface, he's just not sure -what-. 

He exhales, shivers as his bangs shift slightly and then he is carefully pushing himself to a sitting position.

"What's wrong?" How odd his life, that the sound of voices coming out of nowhere no longer surprise him or send him flailing. Instead, he turns a little on his seat, blinking sluggishly at the Winter Soldier. Who looks so earnestly worried that Foggy feels .. wrong. Like, so very wrong.

"Tired. So very tired. Work .. is something else, at the moment." He ducks his head in shame instantly, knowing that he doesn't really have any right to complain. He's helping people, and it can be exhausting dealing with some of the assholes that think themselves better than him, but he's nowhere near the level of the Avengers, and he really just hates that he's feeling this way. "Never mind. It's so not important, man." He plasters on the fake smile he uses to lighten his voice when dealing with Matt, totally forgetting how fake it -looks- since all he ever actually uses it for is to make his voice sound different. The way Bucky winces and then -glares- at him is a pretty good remind how fake it really is. "Yeah, I forgot that doesn't actually work on sighted people." He mutters that little aside under his breath before he pries himself off the seat. "I really will be okay, Buck."

He doesn't expect the Winter Soldier to approach, let alone to scoop him into a tight hug that feels all encompassing. It saves and damns him all at once and he finds himself blinking back tears. He's not even sure -why- he's on the verge of crying, but it burns and seers and leaves him feeling raw in Bucky's arms.

"Foggy .. -you- are important. Don't know why it's so hard for you to get that, but you -are-. Whatever's going on, it's important because you are, so talk to me." He cannot imagine what it costs the man to say that .. to offer to listen when it's obvious that such a thought makes him uncomfortable, but that's what friendship is, isn't it? Leaving your comfort zone for someone you care about. 

"I .." His voice dissolves around the single letter and he feels as if he's teetering on the edge of hysteria and that makes even less sense than the tears had. "I just don't even know anymore, Bucky. Things are jumbled and weird in my mind and Karen is giving me the cold shoulder and the demanding eyes because apparently my business is everyone elses and Matt is walking around half shattered and I think it's somehow my fault but I can't begin to think -why- and I'm pretty sure I shouldn't even -be- here anymore." The words erupt from him in an emotional explosion and he cannot believe that he's vomiting his emotions all over his friend, but he also knows ... well, he also knows that he needs to get some of this out before it festers any further.

"Foggy .. do you -want- to leave? Because at this point, -you- are the -only- one that doesn't think you deserve to be here. You .. you aren't some charity case or something, you get that, right? Even if you hadn't lost your apartment and then saved all those people, we would -still- want you here, because you are our friend. Plain and simple, bottom line, no ifs, ands, or buts, man. You. Are. Our. Friend. You're one of us, and we all love you, Fog. We aren't gonna, like, hold you hostage here or something, but you don't have to rush off, either." Bucky tilts his head, runs the tip of his nose against the curve of Foggy's neck and it makes him a little weak in the knees, though he's ignoring the sensation as best he can in the midst of all the feeling and emotions leaking out between them. "I mean ... I can't believe I'm gonna say this .. but you make the tower -HOME-, Fog. So ... do you -want- to leave?"

The question is a breath of air across his oversensitive skin and he can feel himself beginning to shake in Bucky's arms. Quite the reversal from the man that showed up in his rooms suffering nightmares. He's not use to a role reversal on this grand a scale, but he doesn't really have the brain power to consider it right now, either. In fact, all he can really think about is how perfect this feels. How freeing it is, being the one that can fall apart for a moment. 

"I .. no, Bucky. Not really. Not yet." He knows that he can't stay here indefinitely, that he's not an Avenger and he never will be. Doesn't even -want- to be, really. He likes his role in fighting crime, likes using the word of the law to convict criminals and save good people. It's one of the reasons that Daredevil sits so awkwardly with him, because they took oaths, damn it, and none of those included taking things into their own hands, beyond the law. And even if the Avengers are somewhat sanctioned for what they do, they are still vigilantes of a sort and that will never be 100% okay with Foggy either, even if he's beginning to accept it a little bit, now. So, while he knows that he will be friends with the Avengers for as long as they permit it, he also knows that eventually, he will have to move out. Eventually, he will have to return to -reality- and that's okay. He's not looking for a permanent vacation, just a little time to catch his breath and pretend that everything is okay. Once he's had that, he will 100% return to adulting the way he's supposed to. "I like it here. And I know, no matter what you guys say, I can't just move in here permanently or anything, but I want to stay." Once he has spoken his peace, he pulls his himself from the arms of the other man using every ounce of willpower he has not to remain there. 

Bucky immediately turns and skirts around the bar, moving to begin messing with things that Foggy's too tired to concentrate on. Instead, he folds himself back down, into his seat.

"That makes sense. Well, some sense. Because you -could- stay, Fog. This could be your home, but I get what you mean. We may want you to stay, but that doesn't mean you should. You have to do your own thing. It's understandable .. even admirable. But I meant what I said. You made this place home, and we are all going to miss you, when you go. Even Jarvis. Especially Jarvis, actually." 

"Mr. Barnes is correct, Foggy. I will ... miss you .. when you leave." Not for the first time, and definitely not the last, he wishes that Jarvis had a physical body. So that he could hug the holy hell out of him. 

"I'll miss you too, Jarvis." And that's nothing but earnest truth.

Bucky suddenly appears, gently sliding a mug into Foggy's hand. He blinks down at it with a grin, breathing in the scent of cinnamon and apples.

"I had to save the last of it from Steve. He actually threatened me, so enjoy it, Fog." Foggy snickers before he can stop himself, grinning as he watches Bucky leave the kitchen. He may have had a terrible day, but coming back to such wonderful, loving friends makes up for so much.

* * *

1 Missed Call from Karen

No texts

* * *

"I'm sorry, Mr. Whittemore, but there really is nothing more I can do at the moment. I understand that it's a tough situation and that the waiting is hard, but that's all we can do right now ... wait. I know .. I get it ... please have a good afternoon." Foggy doesn't slam the phone down, into the receiver, but it's a close thing. It's the third call he's received from this client in the past five hours and he really wants nothing more than to pull his hair out and scream at the top of his lungs. 

"Frustrating, isn't it?" Karen practically croons as she walks to the coffee pot to refill her mug, and Foggy must fight down the desire to do her harm. Because he knows what's coming ... that she's going to try and somehow twist this into him not trusting her with something or other ... he manages, by some miracle, not to growl in anger.

"Yes, it's frustrating, Karen, and -no-, it has absolutely nothing to do with you. Whatever passive-aggressive BS you're getting ready to spout, you can just stow it. I'm really not in the mood!" By the time he finishes talking, he's practically growling with frustrated anger and Karen is looking at him with big, watery eyes. One of her best weapons, though he is not so angry that he would actually say that out loud.

"Foggy!" Matt is suddenly there, glaring as best he can over the rim of his glasses, causing Foggy to deflate a little. "Karen was just making a comment, that's no reason to jump down her throat." Foggy glares right back at his best friend, even if he can't exactly see the action, Foggy knows that there are half a dozen factors telling Matt exactly how he feels toward him at the moment. "What is up with you lately? You're snapping and jumping at every little thing." 

A glance at Karen shows that she looks calculating through the tears and that's kind of the last straw, really. 

"Seriously? What's up with -me- lately??" Foggy stands from his desk, quietly seething. He wants to rage, upend his desk and scream. It's not an unfamiliar sensation, but it is one he's used to having a better handle on. "What's up with me, Murdock, is you two! Ever since Karen saw Steve at my place, she's been not so subtly trying to find out which of the Avenger's I'm fucking! Honestly, what the hell, Karen? What, is that the only reason they would let me stay? If I'm spreading it for them?? Has it occurred to you, the reason I haven't been coming around is because you keep pushing your nose into my business? I'm tired of having to ask you to butt out." He turns his glare onto Matt next, knowing that his friend knows he's looking at him.

"And you! You're obviously hiding something from me, Murdock. After everything that happened ... you're playing me again. You can sit around with that fake smile, but I know you better than that. So, don't talk about how -I'm- acting lately .. because I can't go through that again." Foggy jerks away from his desk, reaching up to run his hand through his hair even as his mobile text pings.

He's prepared to ignore it, but a quick check shows that it's from Bucky. 

"Who are you leaving for now, Froggy?" Karen pops off, her voice a little wavery, but stern at the same time and Foggy may have put off answering but it's another step too far.

"Honestly? Pretty much anyone that can get me out of here right now, Karen. Even Marci would be preferable to this." He grunts the words as he moves around his desk, away from the two of them. Of course, he has no chance of leaving his office, since Karen had stepped inside when she addressed him, and Matt had begun to block the door when he rushed to her defense. So, Foggy steps up, just shy of Matt's personal space, ready to face whatever his friend throws back at him. Screaming, crying, pouting, he's prepared for any of that. Hell, he's even prepared for Matt to parkour his ass out of the building rather than deal with all of this. What he's -not- prepared for, is Matt to step out of the way, clearing the door.

"... I'm so sorry, Fog." Those words ... are a knife to his heart ... because they confirm his suspicions. Matt is hiding something big from him again. They barely survived the fallout from the last time ... what will happen this time?

"... yeah, I'm sure you are, Matty. But that doesn't really do either of us a bit of good ... does it?" Foggy sidesteps Matt, ignores the fact that he can practically feel his friend vibrating with emotion, and quietly makes his way out of their office.

* * *

He's not sure where he expected to end up ... where his aimlessly wandering feet would take him, but he's a little more surprised than he should be when he spills into Avengers Tower, feeling raw and broken open. Less surprised when he drags himself all the way up to Bucky's room. And it -is- dragging at this point. He feels too heavy by far, each move to put one foot in front of the other has become a monumental effort. 

When he reaches the door he has only seen a few times, he stares at it blankly. He knows that he's here for a reason .. that he came here riding some kind of instinct he's only have familiar with, but he cannot name it to save his life. He is just preparing to turn and wander away when the door opens and a dewy-eyed Bucky is standing there in his pajama pants, yawning vaguely. 

"Fog? Jarvis said you were standing out here. What's wrong?" He wants to speak. Wants to say -something- to explain, but it feels as if every bad thing from the past several years is catching up with him all at once. Which is why he finds himself pitching forward without any thought beyond the knowledge that Bucky will catch him.

And of course he does.

He quickly wraps his arms around Foggy, dragging him close until he's practically cradling the softer form against his own.

"It's alright, Fog. I gotcha." The words are familiar and soothing, and despite his need, his -drive- to do for others, Foggy is more than willing to allow someone to do for him .. for now.

He blinks, or so it feels, and then looks around in confusion because he has apparently lost time. He went from leaning into Bucky at the door to being redressed in a pair of pajama bottoms and a tee shirt, laying in Bucky's bed. He's not complaining or anything, it's just a little disconcerting to realize he has lost so much time. But he's too tired to overthink it, either. Instead, he curls up on his side, arm thrust up, under a pillow that he is clutching in a death grip. It feels as if he has very little to hold on to right now, so the pillow may as well be an anchor for how desperately he needs it.

"What's wrong, Fog? What happened?" Bucky's words are a breath across the nape of his neck and he shivers with fond memories of a similar situation. And yet, they are somehow also light years apart. He remembers drunken nights when he and Matt would tumble into bed together in college. It was nothing more than two friends occupying the same space and each time it happened, something small and precious inside of Foggy died a little bit. It's so very hard being in love with your best friend when you -know- all they could ever want is friendship in return. But he made it work. 

Now, feeling Bucky wrapped around him like an oddly comforting python or boa constrictor feels nothing like those old days ... because as wonderful and awesome as the Winter Soldier is, he doesn't stir those same feelings in him.

(Some part of him wishes that he could fall in love with Bucky. Or any of the Avengers that might show some small hint of wanting him, because it's starting to hurt so fucking BAD, all of this long distance wanting that will never be returned. He would almost rather live in comfortable like with one of his friends than pine for a passion that will never see fruition.)

This revelation brings tears to Foggy's eyes. He struggles valiantly to blink them back, but it is all in vain. They flow freely down his cheeks, cascade down his lips and chin to fall across his borrowed shirt, creating wet patches of liquid emotion. Foggy has never been sexist or anything of that nature, but as all grown men do, he remembers the lessons of his youth. The reinforced demand/command that boys don't cry. He's never been one to preach such, having had far too many emotion fraught discussions with his best friend where one or both of them were in tears. (It occurs to him that most of those tend to happen while Matt is without pants, but that's neither here nor there.) 

At the moment, though, he would give almost anything to cease his tears for no other reason than he fears looking weak in front of Bucky Barnes. 

"I ... I don't really know where to start, Buck. Feels like everything is falling apart. I don't know what to do." He blinks rapidly again, winces when his tears fall down across his hand. 

"It's gonna be okay, Foggy." He shivers in surprise when he feels a gentle nuzzle against the nape of his neck and once again finds himself lamenting the fact that he cannot simply switch his affections to someone else.

"It's about my best friend Matt and our friend Karen ..." Taking a deep breath, Foggy launches into an explanation about how secrets nearly ruined him and Matt and how Karen's current jealousy us ruining everything. For nearly three hours he lays in Bucky's arms and spills his heart out to the other man. He doesn't have time to feel self conscious or be concerned that his problems are minor compared to what his friend might be going through. He just ... vents. Unloads the pain he's been carrying around until he finally feels lighter and refreshed. 

When all is said and done, Foggy sinks ever so gently into a companionable silence, his eyes drifting closed now that he feels sewn together again. He's no longer drowning under the weight of holding too much in. He is liberated.

"Foggy .." Bucky sounds genuinely hurt on his behalf and he sighs softly when the arms around him tighten. "You remind me so much of Steve." He doesn't bother trying to hold in his sarcastic, disbelieving snort. "I'm serious. You both .. you feel too much, too deep, always have. It's present in everything you say and do, the way you rush off to help people no matter what it takes. The only thing that actually separates you two, is some mad scientists serum, Fog. And lets be real ... if you thought it would save people, you'd take that superserum in a heartbeat." 

He wants to deny it with his every breath, but Bucky said be real and the truth is right there, glaring him in the face. Even Matt had commented on it, that he didn't need a mask to do what Daredevil does, in some way, and it's true enough. But still .. some part of him wants to deny that he can, in any way, measure up to CAPTAIN AMERICA, but he also doesn't want to start a fight with his friend, so he just grunts some nonsense sound and leaves it at that. For now.

"Fog ... how long have you been in love with Matt?" 

Huh. He had imagined this day ... the day when someone finally put two and two together and got 'holy hell, Foggy loves Matt.' He just wasn't expecting it to be one of the Avengers. In fact, what he had truly expected was it to be a moment filled with nerve electrifying panic and fear. But instead, all he feels is tired and resigned. This was, after all, inevitable.

"As long as you've been in love with Steve, Bucky." The words are not mean, cruel, or accusatory. They are simply to illustrate the truth. He has been in love with Matt for almost as long as he's known him, just as it's obvious Bucky has been in love with Steve for as long. He feels the Winter Soldier stiffen behind him before an exhaled breath rustles his hair.

"Yeah ... guess that's fair enough, man." He knows it must be a little harder for Bucky to admit, given the time period he grew up in, and he's really proud of his friend for taking his declaration in stride, not freaking himself out by admitting it. "I guess there's no point denying it. But, I just ... I'm pretty sure he doesn't feel the same way." After a moment of hesitation, Foggy carefully turns in Bucky's arms, so that he's facing his friend head on. So that they can look each other in the eye for the rest of this conversation. 

"Bucky ... he went through hell to get you back ... and then lost it when he thought you were dead." Foggy drops his gaze for a moment, chewing thoughtfully at his bottom lip. He knows it's not really his place to say this, but if it's just an observation, he isn't betraying a secret or anything .. right? "Plus .. well, I mean, there's the way he looks at you, when you're not looking at him. It is -all- of the longing, Buck. Trust me, I know ... because it's the way I look at Matt." If asked before now, Foggy would've sworn he'd never tell anyone the truth, of how he stares longingly, wistfully, at his best friend ... but he knows that he and Bucky can be square with each other, so he's trying not to hold anything back. 

"I .. I don't know, Foggy. If he doesn't feel the same way .. I'd lose my best friend." God, Foggy can understand that, and he knows damn well that he's not strong enough, -brave- enough to do what he's suggesting. But at least -one- of them has a chance at happiness, right? He reaches out, cups Bucky's cheek ever so gently.

"Even if Steve doesn't feel the same way, he will -never- stop being your friend, Buck. But the longer you hold onto this .. the longer it's gonna eat you alive. Please, just .. tell him." He pulls away carefully, curls up on his opposite side with a gentle sigh. He still hasn't figured out his own problems, but maybe Bucky has a better chance, now.

* * *

Three hours later, Foggy wakes up alone, still curled up on Bucky's bed. He buries himself deeper into the covers and pillows, prays silently that Bucky is okay, and then falls asleep again.

* * *

2 Missed calls from Matt

* * *

Bucky takes a deep breath, quietly chanting that Foggy is right under his breath. He draws strength and bravery from the words of his friend, and reaches out to knock on the door before him.

"Hey, Steve .. can we talk?"


	6. Congratulations, you're a Dad!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to take a little break from the main line-up and do this chapter! It's mostly fluff (though I can never fully escape angst) and just so -perfect-! I hope everyone enjoys it!

How is this his life? Like honestly legit, how is this his life!? How had a simple trip to visit his sister turned into .. this!? Foggy Nelson has decided that he has the worst luck known to man! Because the one time he has bothered to venture too far out of Matt's comfort zone, he of course gets jumped. Because obviously, someone up stairs has decided that he is best served playing the damsel in distress. And why is it that he can kick the ass of magically or alien animated suits of armor, but he gets taken down by two asshats with knives? (Well, he has to remind himself that he had at least a little warning as far as the constructs went, but still. It's just not right.)

"If you don't stop squirming your fat ass all over the place, I'm going to shank you." Because these two assbutts are nothing if not so unoriginal it's almost painful. (Or, you know, given the fact that he can feel a bruise blooming on his face, literally painful.) 

"Seriously, man .. why the -hell- are you even -looking- at my ass??" There is no scenario in which Foggy is faced with a bully that he -doesn't- pop off. It is in his very DNA to run his mouth no matter the situation. Sometimes it saves him, sometimes it gets him beaten within an inch of his life. This would be one of the second variety. No sooner has he finished speaking, than he feels the hard, heavy heft of the knife handle strike him across the face. He falls over with a pained groan, his hands bound, so he cannot use them to stop his momentum. As his head swims, his vision blurs, he hears something that sounds suspiciously like a grown man being lifted off his feet and then slammed into a wall. 

His first thought? Somehow Matt or one of the Avengers came to his rescue. His second thought? That knife must have scrambled something in his brain because there's no reason for any of his friends to be in this part of town. Not even Matt knew he was coming here to see his sister. So whatever's going on here, it's not that.

"Seriously, man! First you tie him up, then you talk about his butt? You're a perv, dude!" Foggy blinks slowly, trying to clear his cloudy vision even as he struggles to process what he's hearing. It sounds ... too young. Reminds him of one of his nephews, but that's utterly ridiculous! He groans in pain as he manages to get himself into a sitting position. He squints in just enough time to see the second thug being encased in some kind of .. white string or netting or something odd and so out of place that he has a momentary hope that this is a twisted nightmare he's gonna wake up from any minute now. 

He blinks rapidly, and when his field of vision is filled with RED, he can't help the half-hysteric laugh that bubbles up, out of his swollen mouth. Because red .. it had to be red .. like Iron Man ... Daredevil ... he barely manages not to choke on the sound when a surprisingly small but firm hand helps him to his feet.

"Oh, snap! Those jokers didn't, like, concuss you or something, right?" Okay then .. apparently, he -hadn't- imagined the way too young to be fighting crime voice he had heard earlier. 

Perfect.

Just perfect.

"I'm hoping this is a concussion, because otherwise, some kid just managed to hike two grown ass men up in the air like rag-dolls and .. what .. web them to the side of a building? What even are you!?" Despite the mounting discomfort and anger in his voice, he groans in relief when the kid breaks his bindings like tissue paper. 

"I'm Spiderman!" The -happiness- with which the kid announces this hits Foggy harder than the assholes knife handle had earlier. Because he suddenly has a feeling that he is somehow getting a glimpse of a teenage Matt trying to fight crime and save the world in such a heartfelt earnest way, that he wants to cry. He also kinda wants to grab the junior superhero, bend him over his knee, and spank him until he can't sit down for being so reckless and stupid! Because the kid is wearing a -hoodie- for Christ's sake! His idea of crime fighting body armor is worst than The Devil of Hell's Kitchen before he got his fetishwear and that is -saying- something! 

"Spider _ **MAN**_?? No. No, see, you are Spider ** _kid_**. You aren't fooling -anyone- here, mister!" Somewhere in the distant reaches of his mind, Foggy is downright -abhorred- to -see- his finger lifting to waggle and jab at the teenager before him. "How seriously janked are you, that you are facing down hardened thugs in a -hoodie-!? I mean, come on! Your life choices are -so- suspect right now! I don't care that you ... apparently ... lifted them with some -really- cool spider-wed stuff. Did you make that yourself?" And just like that, Foggy loses the thread of his lecture and is off into territory where he is totally proud of this teenager for making something that even -Tony Stark- hadn't considered yet. 

He watches as Spider ** _kid_** reaches up and rubs sheepishly at the back of his head through his hoodie and mask. He can only imagine some vague sense of pride on youthful features, since he hasn't seen him with his mask off yet. Why does he think of that -yet- when there's absolutely no reason for such a thing to ever happen? (Oh, that's right, he has a way of adopting strays within -moments- of meeting them. Case in point ... Matt ... and all of the Avengers. Hell, even Brett, Marci, and Karen fall into that category!)

"Uhm ... yeah, I totally did. I made it in chem -- ugh, I mean in a place that is grown up and very --- yeah, I'm not fooling you." Foggy almost feels sorry for the little dude when he deflates a bit, his shoulders hunching in on himself. "Yeah, I'm only in high school, but I've been doing this for months now and I know the hoodie is jank, a little plebeian and stuff, but it's all I have for now. But it's totally cool, Mr .... uhg .. hey! I told you my name, tell me yours!" And is it completely crazy that even with the red mask, he can -see- the accusation written all over that adolescent mug?? 

"Uhm, no, you totally didn't. You told me your superhero name, not your -name-!" When Spider ** _kid_** opens his mouth all too eagerly, Foggy wants to facepalm but manages to keep himself in check ... barely. "And don't even -think- about telling me now! Just because you saved me from some thugs doesn't mean I'm a good person!" Not that he's a bad person or anything, but the paternal need to give this adorable little idiot some advice is burning him up from the inside out. "I'm ... you can call me Frank." It physically pains him to use that name, but he's not about to give this fool the name he actually uses on a daily basis, even if he's feeling paternal.

"Oh cool. Hey Frank, glad I could swing in and save you! You gonna be okay from here or can I, like, walk you somewhere?" Yeah ..... yeah, this kid is either a long lost Murdock or God punishing him for doing something. (Maybe for not being able to convince Matt to stop being Daredevil.)

"What? No! I don't need you to walk me anywhere. I do, however, expect you to find the nearest payphone and call this in." When Spider ** _kid_** manages to fish a phone out from his outfit, Foggy actually groans and snatches it out of his hands. "No! Bad Spider ** _kid_**!" He actually finds himself lamenting the fact that he doesn't have a newspaper he could roll up to gently smack the kid with, or maybe a spray bottle of water, or at least -something- to help get his point across. "How have you not been arrested and charged nine ways to Sunday? It doesn't matter that you're a kid! This is -not- the kind of thing they would try you as a juvie for. This is the kind of thing where they would do everything they could to find a way to try you as an adult and make sure you did actual, hard time." Foggy knows that he's lecturing, that he is technically sticking his nose where it doesn't belong, but how can he not!? This junior moron is clearly in over his head and at this rate, his future is looking pretty bleak if he hasn't even figured out the basics. He huffs a huge breath and reluctantly hands the mobile back.

"Okay. You are going to listen to me, and you are going to listen -very- closely. You will never make another spider-connected call with this phone again. You will make sure that any suspect information pertaining to this side of your life is completely scrubbed from this mobile. You will then go and buy a burner phone." 

"Buy a -what- phone?" Oh God. Oh wow. Foggy finds himself clutching at his heart before he can stop the action and he wastes no time praying to God for the strength not to spank this errant child! Instead, he takes several more careful, deep breaths and then stares the teenager down.

"A burner phone ... like from spy movies and stuff. Basically, get a cheap prepaid mobile that you don't have to register or give any information to get. When you get your prepaid card inputed, make sure you don't turn on the GPS or phone finder functions. That will be the -only- phone you use while you're in costume. That way, there is no overlap between your two lives."Against his better judgement, or at least the little voice that pretends to be his better judgement, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. Thankfully, the assbutts hadn't managed to take it yet before his woefully unprepared rescuer showed up. He fishes out a business card and holds it out to the kid.

"And if you ever find yourself in trouble, or just need someone to talk to ... give me a call." He hesitates ... because he knows how big this is. He knows that if he adds to his business card, he becomes complicit in this kid's vigilante practices. But then he remembers the word -kid- and how eager and idiotic he is, and he sighs. He grabs a pen from his pocket and turns the card over, quickly writing out his personal number. "The first side is my work phone, in case you ever need help in a legal capacity. The other .... that's my personal cell, kid. If you need anything, if something happens and you don't know where to turn ... call me. I know ... I know you don't have any reason to trust me, but please ... just call if you need to."

It really sucks not being able to see the kid's face because of the mask, even though logically, Foggy knows it's safer for both of them. So, when the teen takes the card and nods vehemently, he is relieved but also just feels ... weird.

"I do trust you, Frank. I mean .. no one .. no one really knows I do this, so there's no one to care, and you are totally the type that does, so, you know .. thanks." Foggy nods and waves a hand almost absently at the other person, his mind and heart racing now that the card has actually exchanged hands.

"You're welcome. And, uh thanks .. for helping me. See you around, kid." He turns and hurries away from the scene once he's sure he has everything, in no real rush to be associated with the crime, even as the victim. All he really wants to do is go home and get some sleep. Preferably, he wants to sneak into the Tower before anyone can see the damage done him, because he has a feeling that explaining what happened would result in two things ... the Avengers hard pressed not to gear up and go after his attackers even if they're already locked up, and and his friends becoming so overprotective that he will never be allowed to leave the Tower again.

Both are touching, but horrible prospects.

* * *

As luck would have it, he manages to not only get into the Tower without his friends seeing the damage, but he even manages to make it back out of the Tower and head to work without running into anyone. He's a little surprised that Jarvis hadn't blown the whistle and tattled on him, but then, he's not sure of the full extent of his AI friend's abilities, either. For all he knows, there was no way for Jarvis to know he was physically hurt, though he kinda doubts that.

So, he managed to get out of one set of confrontations, but he knows that he won't get out of the second set, because he looks like an abuse victim, or like a man that definitely got jumped. And while Matt won't be able to -see- it, he can think of several different things that will give it all away. The smell of blood that lingers on his skin, the smell of bruises, the heat of the damage, etc. 

When he arrives at work, he finds himself hesitating to enter. He can hear Karen laughing at something Matt said, can hear Matt sort of .. shifting his behavior in a subtle way that Karen won't get, but that he would've spotted immediately. It means that Matt knows Foggy is hesitating to walk in and he will never feel completely stable with his friend again. Because it is painfully obvious that Matt will -always- know more about Foggy than he will ever know about Matt. 

So, he takes a deep breath, tries to fortify himself against what he knows is going to happen. Another few seconds and he steps through the door, heading straight for his office.

"Oh, hey, Fo -- Foggy!?" Of course, Karen has to be the first to spot him, because there would be far too many questions if Matt rushed him to find out what's wrong when he's physically beaten. Karen may have trouble figuring some things out, but that would be a neon sign, right there. So, she comes rushing over, Matt stumbling after her, as if drawn by her obvious concern. 

"Heya, Karen. Matt." He tries to control his breathing when Karen grabs him by the cheeks to check the damage to his face, but he knows that he winces at least a little when Matt stiffens and reaches for him. He just barely manages to dodge the hand and pull himself away from Karen. "It looks worse than it is. I promise." 

"Foggy ..." Matt's voice is strained, wrecked at such a level that even Karen turns to look at him in surprised concern. 

"I really am fine, Matt. It's just some bruising." For some reason, he had expected Karen to leave it at that. Her soft scoff lets him know that she's got plenty to say.

"Right .. and a busted, swollen mouth, black eye, and a few scratches. What the hell -happened-, Fog?" He grits his teeth, feels his jaw pop as it grinds, trying to keep from tearing into Karen for talking out of turn, so to speak.

"It's not that -bad-, Karen. I got into a little trouble coming back from seeing my sister." Matt makes a soft, wounded sound and Foggy just barely manages to pull away from his desperately seeking hands. The last thing he wants right now is Matt's touch, though he's not entirely sure why he feels that way. He has always enjoyed the quietly physical moments shared between them. The moments when Matt grasped his elbow, knocked their shoulders together, or on the rarest of occasion, reached out to touch his face or neck. But at the moment, he's pretty sure any touch from Matt would break something inside him permanently, even if he's not sure what that something -is-. 

He vaguely wonders if Bucky ever feels that way around Steve. 

"Two guys jumped me, but I'm alright. Nothing happened beyond a little roughing up. As per usual, someone saved the day and I'm okay. Now, if you'll excuse me." He dodges them both, slipping around them and heading into his office, closing the door with a gentle finality that he knows will keep them away .... for now.

Some how, by some -miracle-, the closed door keeps them both out of his office until a few minutes before noon. In truth, he had expected no more than 10-15 minutes before either or both came knocking. He gets the sinking suspicion that he owes the silence to Matt and he would give just about anything not to be in dept to his friend right now. It's a little petty and unfair, but he's only human! 

He blows out a sharp breath, shivers as his bangs rustle against his forehead. He's so tired .... nightmares about Spider ** _kid_** running into all sorts of life ending problems and him being unable to help. Of course, the pain had also been a factor in his less than stellar sleep. Anyway, when he glances at his watch and realizes that he's this dead tired at just noon, he knows that the rest of the day is likely to be an endless drag if he doesn't get a bit of a boost. And yet, the only nearby source of said boost is Karen's coffee ... outside of the sanity of his office .... where it would be open season for his two friends. 

He's halfway to convincing himself that caffeine is most definitely -not- needed when he hears his mobile ring. As if to prove just how tired he is, it takes almost four rings for him to realize what's going on.

"Hello." He calls out, not having bothered to try and concentrate on the generic ringtone or even glance at the display to see what the number is.

"Uhm ... Frank?" Foggy jerks as if electrocuted when he hears the young voice that shouldn't be familiar, but achingly is. He swallows heavily even as he struggles to keep his voice low.

"Jesus H. Christ, kid! I know I said call, but I really wasn't expecting you to call this soon. Can I at least hope that the fact it's my personal number, and not my work one, that you aren't in trouble? Because lemme tell ya, I've had my fair share of problems, and if you're anything like me, kid, trouble is always easy to find." He's a little surprised when they both laugh at his words, but still, he can feel tension lurking just beneath his skin.

"What? No, I'm not in trouble, swear. Just .. I wanted to call, and thank you again. I know ... I know I can't be what you were really expecting, not the kind of ... well, person you probably thought, but it was really cool, the way you treated me like you cared." Foggy can feel his cheeks filling with heat and he absently rubs at his forehead with a bit of a sigh.

"Of course I care, kid. I mean, it's kinda hard not to, given the circumstances. So, you know, you don't really need to keep thanking me." Because it feels weird and awkward, for the one that saved -him- to be offering so much thanks. 

He's about to say something else when he hears an almighty -crash- from the main room.

"Shit! I gotta go, kid, I'll call you back." He ends the call and shoves his phone into his pocket even as he hurries around his desk and heads into the main room. He blinks in surprise to see a shaking Matt knelt on the floor, struggling to clean up a broken glass, and what looks like ... the remains of his Reader. What the hell!? "Matt man, are you okay?? What happened?" Karen has arrived with paper towels and has bent over to start sopping up part of the mess. Matt, meanwhile, is still shaking, looking pale and haunted. And more than a little bit angry. When Foggy moves to try and help clean up, he's surprised to find Matt physically pushing him away with the kind of pissed snarl he's sure his friend reserves for moments in his fetishwear.

"Just -don't-, Foggy." Matt's words are seething, roiling with so many different emotions that Foggy feels almost sick with it. "I can't believe you! After all your lectures and your .. your -anger-, you're keeping a bigger secret than I could -ever- keep. You are such a fucking -hypocrite-, Nelson!" And just like that, Foggy is so very confused, but he also wants to call bullshit and rant and rave about how it is pretty much impossible for him to have any kind of secret that would rank along side all the things Matt kept from him, and is still keeping from him.

He never gets the chance, however. No sooner has Matt spoken than he stands and storms out of the office with far more agility and ability than a fully blind man should possess. Foggy sags a little as he moves to take his friend's place, helping to clean up the mess. He feels so adrift, untethered, confused as to why Matt thinks he's suddenly the victim. He's just too tired to try and understand at the moment, though.

"What was that all about?" Karen sniffs a little as she stands, and Foggy can do little more than shrug his shoulders.

"Hell if I even know anymore."

He doesn't say that he's afraid. Terrified that something has ruptured beyond repair between them.

He doesn't say that he is almost relieved at the thought of this strange little dance between him and Matt finally ending.

He doesn't say that he doesn't have the first fucking CLUE what he will do when Matt realizes that Foggy is nothing more than the thing holding him back and finally walks away.

It doesn't stop any of those things from being true, though. He turns and slips wearily back into his office, his whirling emotions doing more to keep him awake than any amount of coffee could've.

* * *

In no way surprising, the return to Avengers Tower had been just as explosive as his arrival at work had been. Clint, Natasha, and Bucky were gearing up, ready to hurt someone within six minutes of seeing the abuse done his face. Tony had been speechless, which was not something Nelson was prepared for. Bruce had begun to turn green until Foggy had thrown his arms around him and begged him to calm down. 

Steve ... he was the one that surprised Foggy the most. Because Steve had sniffed, shed a few tears, and pulled him into an almost bone crushing hug, apologizing over and over for not being there for him. (Foggy wanted to make some kind of joke but had been too shocked to come up with a good one.) In the end, he told them the same bare bones story he told Matt. He explained that he had visited his sister, been jumped, and been rescued. None of them had believed he was okay, but all of them were willing to let him deal with it in his own way. He really does love that about them.

After he had managed to call off their hunt for blood, he had quietly locked himself in his room and tried to figure out what he needed to do. Though he didn't really want to ... his first move had been to call Matt. Not surprising, it went straight to voicemail, and he's a little relieved for that. (Even if he's trying to hope REAL HARD that it didn't go straight to voicemail because Matt is out getting his ass handed to him somewhere.) After leaving a message saying that he wasn't going to be in the next few days unless they got a case, he put his phone up and leaned back in the chair at his desk. He glances at his laptop but wrinkles his nose. Without anything to work on, he just doesn't have the desire to crack the thing open. He knows that he could head into the living room and his friends would welcome him with open arms, but they would also make a fuss he's just not emotionally prepared to handle.

Of course, thinking of -why- they would make a fuss has him thinking about Spider ** _kid_** and his mind immediately tries to shut down. But he won't let it. Instead, he opens a drawer and chuckles ... as with everything else, Tony had gone a little overboard here, too. He spies notebooks, graph paper, a sketchpad, even little memo pads for personal notes. He grabs the sketchpad and settles it on top of the desk, grabbing a pencil before shutting the drawer.

He takes a deep breath and then hunches over his work.

* * *

Slowly, carefully, Foggy unfurls himself. He aches from head to toe after having been bent over so long, his shoulders popping as he straightens out and squints at his work. It's perfect. Well, it will be, if he can talk Tony into helping him ... and though he would never admit it out loud, he's not sure if he -can- talk him into it. At least, not on his terms. 

However, nothing is going to keep him from doing this, damn it! So, he gathers the sketchpad and forces himself away from the desk. 

It only takes him about fifteen minutes to make it to Tony's lab, even though he's never actually been there before. He had been into Bruce's lab on several occasions, mostly to either fetch him for a meal or keep him company, but never to Tony's. Imagine his surprise when he walks into a veritable junk yard collection of bits and bobs that mean nothing to him, but he is sure have precise meaning to Tony.

"And what do I owe the pleasure of your sweet and sassy company, Fog?" Tony appears out of nowhere, looking particularly sleep rumpled in his faded grey band tee and long sleeve under shirt. His jeans are a little saggy but comfortable looking. Foggy waves the sketchpad at him.

"I need your help. I need you to design something, no questions asked, and I need it as soon as possible. I, uhm .. I could probably come up with money or something, but -- ye-ouch!" He wails in surprise when Tony smacks him up the backside of the head with one hand, and takes the sketchpad with the other.

"If you mention money again, I will strangle you, and not in the fun-sexy-times-way, kay?" Foggy eeps at the blatant words, and knows that he's blushing, but he doesn't care. Because this is -important-, damn it, and none of Stark's odd flirting is going to derail him.

"Fine, fine, I was just saying. Anyway." Stark waves a hand dismissively, having already opened the sketchpad and immersed himself in it. Within three minutes, he's already making notes as he flips between pages, muttering and chattering to himself. It's nearly half an hour before he seems to remember that Foggy is patiently standing there. 

"Huh. I really, really want to ask, but I know you don't want me to. Normally, I'd just go ahead and ask anyway, but after what happened, and the way you've been sulking .. you get this one free pass, Nelson." Foggy cannot help the wide grin or the fact that he lunges at Stark to give him a big, friendly hug. "Yeah yeah, enough with this touchy-feely stuff. You refuse to let me get beyond hugs, anyway." Foggy blushes deeply and rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

"I really don't get you guys. What is up with all this weird pseudo-flirting stuff?" He snorts softly, still a little surprised that they seemed to include him in whatever game is going on here, but not really complaining. Just curious. 

"What? With the .. pseudo --- oh. **_Oh_**. This ... this explains so much, Nelson. I could explain, I really could, but I'm not. Partially because not knowing is going to drive you insane and I'm a little short on good entertainment at the moment ... and partially because this is -really- something you need to figure out on your own. Because it is -painfully- obvious that your a little bit of a moron when it comes to your better aspects. So, have fun figuring this out." Foggy huffs, but doesn't actually say anything because it would do no good. Stark is hella stubborn and Foggy is too tired and worn out to try and decode his BS at the moment.

"Whatever. But what about my little project? Can you do it?" 

"I am going to pretend that you didn't just accidentally insult me because you're cute, adorable, and far too much fun to have around. Yes, I can do it, it shouldn't take too long. I have a billion questions but you're a lawyer for a living, so you can hold out and I'd get too bored trying to annoy answers out of you. Now go away. I'm gonna be busy for a while."

* * *

Things have been .. weird for several days now. Bucky is preoccupied with something, Steve keeps giving him these strange, sad, pained little looks that he cannot decipher to save his life, and Tony has been absent. Presumably working on their little project. 

So, Foggy has been spending a lot of time alone, keeping quietly to himself. It's so odd, being in a tower full of people and some still feeling alone. Even knowing Jarvis is available to speak to at any hour is not enough to make him feel ..... connected. 

It takes far too long for him to realize that he's feeling this way because he and Matt are more at odds than they have -ever- been before. Even after Foggy first learned about his vigilante ways. This time feels worse, because Foggy hasn't the first clue what's going on, why Matt is so mad at him. He cannot think of a single thing he has done wrong. It's perplexing and unnerving and maybe, just what he needs right now.

He feels like he's betraying every part of their friendship feeling this way, but he can't help it. Maybe this time apart is just what he needs to distance himself from his feelings for his best friend. Hell, maybe is feelings are what's causing the strain in the first place. Maybe Matt finally got tired of pretending they are on the same page and is putting distance between them until Foggy can make himself understand that nothing is ever going to happen there. 

With a frustrated sigh, he throws himself onto his bed and curls up.

* * *

Foggy wakes up in the middle of the night, panting for breath. He rolls over, onto his side, wincing as his covers and sheet catch on his body. He struggles, twists and turns until he breaks free and nearly rolls off the side of the bed.

His nightmares had been different tonight ... no worrying glimpses of Spider ** _kid_** , but instead, the horror of finding Matt bleeding out on his floor, dressed all in black. Apparently, that wound is far more raw than he allowed himself to believe.

He blinks languidly, trying to claw his way up from the grogginess of just awaking, when he hears the sound of his phone getting a text. He nearly sends the device right off the edge of his table as he struggles to grab it.

* * *

Texts from The Kid:

Hey! So, I totally took down four muggers and three street thugs!

Just saved a guy that kinda reminded me of you. Not as nice and thankful, tho.

Hope everything's okay after you had to hang up.

Are you any good at math? 

Everything's quieted down for a bit.

Man, gotta LOVE healing abilities! 

Hope I'm not bugging you with all this.

G'night, man.

* * *

Foggy had read every text several times, and texted back a simple 'be safe, kid' that he knew the superhero would get. He can't believe Spider ** _kid_** had been so adamant to text him through the night, but it was also kinda awesome. Though it once more brings into focus the fact that he and Matt aren't really on speaking terms.

* * *

Finished! Five days after delivering the sketchpad to Stark, he had waltzed into Foggy's room without knocking, placed a case on his bed ... and then promptly passed out on said bed! Foggy had grinned big and beautiful, carefully tucked his friend in, and grabbed the case, and practically RAN from the Tower in his happiness and excitement. 

After shooting off five different over-energetic texts, he had found himself waiting semi-patiently for Spider ** _kid_** to arrive. When he does, it's with the same kind of dramatics he's come to expect from Matt and Clint, and it's just adorable in a frustrating way. 

The kid falls from the top of a building, using his strange webbing to swing to an easy landing a few feet away. Foggy is both impressed and terribly worried for the strangers well-being. He knows that his hart is far too big but he doesn't think that will ever really change. 

"Frank!" The only time he has heard that name spoken with such enthusiasm, it's usually his Mom or Dad. He's surprised that he kinda likes it, though Foggy will forever be his favorite. "I hope I haven't been getting on your nerves with all the messages. I can stop. It's just, no one else really knows and when the nights are getting a little long, it helps to have someone to talk to. And you did say I could talk to you if I needed, so I figured you wouldn't mind, and am I talking fast? I feel like I'm talking a little fast!" 

After a moment of hesitation, Foggy throws his head back and LAUGHS. Long. Loud. Full. He laughs and laughs and without overthinking it, he reaches out and catches the kid in a one armed hug that is returned enthusiastically.

"A little fast, but it's okay. You seem like the type that has energy to burn. So, I asked you here for a reason. Let's call this ... a surprise inspection. Unfortunately, I see you're still wearing that awful hoodie." He glares at the garment as if it has personally offended him, because it HAS. "However, the fact that you have been using the burner phone somewhat makes up for it." He turns, snagging the teen by the sleeve and pulling him a little deeper into the alley they met in.

"Thanks! I've made sure that I only ever have the burner when I go out." He can almost feel the way the teen is lighting up in pride, preening a bit, and he wants to laugh. The kid really does remind him of Matt in so many ways. He mentally beats down the negative emotions associated with his best friend right now, grinning lightly instead.

"So. Since I know there's no chance of talking you out of this idiocy, I figured I would help you along a little bit." He grabs the case and holds it out, watching as the kid grabs it and kneels down to open it. 

On the inside, perfectly folded, is a bright red outfit with black and blue and the kid actually yelps as he rips it free of the case.

"Holy! I mean ... is this ... really? Like, REALLY?!" The kid dances around Foggy, running the material through his hands, shifting it every which way to check it out. When he sees the spider emblem on the front, he actually squeals. "This .. this is me! This looks like something from Stark Industries, why does this look like something from Stark Industries ... DID YOU HAVE A SUIT MADE FOR ME BY STARK INDUSTRIES!?" At that enthusiastic half shout, Foggy has to acknowledge that where the kid reminds him so much of Matt, he could also be a Nelson through and through. 

"Yes, really. Yes, this is you, and no, I didn't have a suit made for you by Stark Industries .... I had a suit made for you by Tony Stark himself. He just finished it tonight." He's expecting enthusiasm. What he's -not- expecting is to be tackled to the ground in an overwhelming hug.

"Thank you thank you THANKYOU!" Foggy laughs even as he carefully pries the kid off and stands.

"You're welcome. But it's a little selfish, too. This is as much for my own peace of mind as it is for your safety. There's a basic user manual in the case. Be careful, please. I gotta be heading back."

* * *

Texts from The Kid:

This. Suit. I mean ... this SUIT, man!

I managed to stop -9- muggings! And no injuries.

You're the best ever, Frank!

Do you know how to dance? 

Is that something you might be able to teach me?

Have you dated a lot?

I think I need some advice. 

Can I call you later? Are you busy???

* * *

It's a little odd, coming back to work on a Friday. It had been radio silence between him and his two colleagues, but that's not really surprising at this point. Whatever had set Matt off hadn't magically healed itself and Foggy is still confused and upset to tackle all of this head on. He cannot believe Matt believes there's a world in which FOGGY is keeping secrets worthy of anger.

After all, hadn't Matt already made it perfectly obvious that Foggy has no secrets left? Even his big, messy feelings are obvious to Daredevil, so what does Matt think he has the right to be mad about? By the time he got into the office, he had managed to simmer his emotions down a little bit.

Of course, the fact that he made sure he was in earlier than anyone else probably helped. 

The sound of his cell ringing at 9 something in the morning drags him from his thoughts. He squints down at the screen and actually growls as he answers.

"What the hell, kid? Your ass should be in -class-, not at a place in which you can be calling me. Everything okay?"

"I'm between classes! And I need your -help-, Frank!" The kid sounds out of breath and a little panicked and any playfulness that might have come from this evaporates instantly. He's up, out of his chair, hand reaching for his jacket where it's thrown over the back of of it.

"What's going on??" 

"I am about to make a huge ass of myself and I don't know what to do!" The teen hisses into the phone and Foggy barely manages not to curse a blue streak! Because at this moment, it -really- seems like this kid is trying to kill him!

"Seriously!? I thought you meant -actual- trouble!" He falls gracelessly into his seat, cradling his forehead in his hand as he breathes carefully. "Okay. Take a deep breath, and then tell me what's wrong and we can figure this out." Even in the midst of a pounding heart and irritation, he is nothing if not helpful to those he cares about.

"Okay. Okay." The kid takes a deep, slightly quivering breath and Foggy winces in sympathy for him. "So. There's this dance. I can't dance and that's not even the important part. The important part is that I like two people and I'm pretty sure both of them are going to shoot me down, so I don't want to ask either of them, but if I -do- ask someone, I'm not sure which to ask first. I don't want to make either of them think they're second best or something. Help. Me." Foggy pulls his phone back long enough to press his palm against his mouth and huff a seriously irritated breath into it.

After all, he's barely keeping himself together at this point, so who the hell is he to offer advice to ANYONE?? And yet .. it's obvious that Spider ** _kid_** actually needs help here. And Nelsons are nothing if not willing to put everything off to help others. 

"Okay. So, we look at this logically. Who are the two you want to ask out?" 

"So, there's Liz .. she's really pretty and smart, is on the Decathlon team, and is generally just way out of my league. Plus, I'm not even sure she knows I exist." Foggy draws in a sharp breath, trying really hard not to pursue that line of thought, because it makes him think of half of his friends and how even as far as -friendship- goes, they are so far out of his league. "And then there's Ned. He's, like .. just yeah. He's my best friend and he's awesome in every way and he doesn't even know I have a crush on him and if I say something it could totally ruin our friendship and Help. Me." 

As if the first correlation wasn't bad enough, the description of Ned is pretty much everything Foggy is facing with Matt that he squeezes his eyes close tightly before tears begin to fall. 

"That .. is one hell of a predicament, kid." He's so consumed with thoughts of how to help the boy, that he doesn't even tell him off for using their real names. "Okay. So, Liz sounds awesome. She's pretty and smart, both good qualities. But, what do you have in common with her?" 

There's utter silence on the other end of the phone, followed by a frustrated sound.

"Honestly? I don't really know. We only have the Decathlon in common, and I don't really get to talk to her personally then." Foggy is already nodding along, even if his young friend can't see him doing it.

"Okay, so there might be a little bit of awkwardness if you take her." He taps his fingers against his desktop, prepared to ask the question that he does not want to. In any fashion. Because he already knows the answer. "And what about Ned? If he said yes, what would this dance be like?" Foggy finds himself holding his breath in preparation for the gushing he knows is coming. (Because he knows exactly how much he would extol Matt if given the chance.)

"Oh man, it would be -awesome-! Even if we just, like, sat in a corner and talked all night while listening to the music, it would be great. We never have a bad time together, you know? But then, we have almost everything in common, so it's not like anything is ever awkward between us .. but, I mean, if he gets weird about me asking ... I don't know what I'd do, Frank." 

"Well, see, I'm gonna tell you the same thing I just told a good friend of mine. Ned is your -friend-, kid. If he truly cares about you, if he's a -real- friend, then he ain't gonna push you to the side because you have a crush on him, okay? So, if you think you and him are gonna have the best time, ask him out. Tell him that you have feelings for him, a crush if you wanna say that, but tell him that you understand if he doesn't feel the same way, and then ask Liz. And even if she says no, you and Ned can go as friends. There's nothing that says you can't. So deep breath, and go get your man. And, you know, STOP SKIPPING CLASS before I bend you over my knee and spank you!" He hears a squeak and a yelp, followed by stumbling steps and he laughs. Can't help it. 

"Yes sir! I mean, of course, Frank. I am running to class as we speak! And I will totally talk to Ned at lunch and I'll call you back -after- school! Have a good day!!" Foggy bursts out laughing as he ends the call, shaking his head in fond exasperation before he shoves his phone into his pocket and heads out to grab some coffee before anyone else shows up.

Of course, he has no way of knowing that Matt has been standing outside listening into the whole conversation, blinking back tears at the pain of betrayal he's feeling at the moment.

* * *

Texts from The Kid:

Oh. My. God.

He said yes.

He actually said yes!

Not as friends!

As, like, an actual DATE.

Oh god, he said yes. I can't dance.

I'm going to look ridiculous!

He's too good for me, for this!

THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT, FRANK!

I HATE YOU!!

Okay, that's a lie. I should, like, wash my own mouth out for lying that badly because you're the greatest -EVER- and he said YES because you were right and you are awesome.

Please.

Help.

ME!!

I CAN'T DANCE!!!!

* * *

Foggy is -way- too nervous for something so simple. He's just about to meet Spider ** _kid_** face-to-face for the first time, and it shouldn't matter that much, but it really does. There's something about the entire situation that is electrical and odd but interesting. 

He's pacing in the main room of the office. He couldn't just invite this strange junior superhero to the Tower without having to explain nine ways to Sunday and he doesn't have an explanation for this insanity, or why it means so much to him. An awkwardly loud knock at the door causes him to jump and grunt and he nearly trips over his own feet to answer it.

Foggy stares ... and stares ....... and stares some more. Where he had likened Spider ** _kid_** to Murdock-like behavior, the kid looks like he walked right out of the Nelson family line. His hair is wild and dark, like most of Foggy's siblings, with the same affable, sweet features leaning toward boyish. He even stands like a mirror image of Foggy, and is only an inch or so shorter than him. The only glaring difference between them is eye color, and that is such a small detail.

"Frank! Hey, thanks for this!" The kid rushes forward to hug him and Foggy can't help but grin.

"Call me Foggy .. most people do." He claps the kid on the back before closing the door and leading him toward the centre of the room. 

"Okay, cool. Most just call me Peter." It's odd and wrong on every level, exchanging personal information like this. Just by inviting Peter to the office, he has officially passed from the outskirts to involved in the life of this vigilante, teenager or not. He finds that he's not that apposed to being involved, because he likes the teen. Finds him interesting and cool, and he utterly believes in the kid's big heart.

"Well, come on, Peter. Welcome to Nelson and Murdock. My partner is, thankfully, already gone for the day. As is our secretary." Peter looks in absolute -awe- of their rinky-dink little office and Foggy struggles not to outright preen.

"Wow, so you're a different kind of superhero, huh?" Foggy stumbles over his own feet and blushes bright red. He's already shaking his head in negation when he turns to face the kid. "Don't shake your head at me. I read up on you ... you help people if they can pay or not. To every single person you take time out of your day to fight for and help, you're a hero." Foggy ducks his head and decides to remain silent. He's not in the mood to argue with the teen over this, or to try and explain every way in which Peter's wrong. 

"Come on." He makes sure that the little area is clear, and shuffles his feet awkwardly. "So, what all this boils down to, is that you don't know how to dance." 

"Yeah. I mean .. I can dance regularly, but slow dancing ... just no. It's all awkward and weird and I never know where to put my hands ... and please help me. You ... you're the only one I really trust with this, Foggy." It's a miracle that those words don't choke Foggy right up. As is, however, he manages to swallow down his emotions and continue on. 

"Not a problem, Peter. I mean, I am a little invested in you at this point. And I'm really happy for you and Ned. I told you it'd work out with him." He reaches up on instinct and ruffles the teen's hair, grinning when he squawks and rushes to try and put it back to straights. 

"So, is that how you got Mrs. Nelson? Did you man up and chase her?" Foggy chokes on something .. his own breath or saliva, thin air, or maybe nothing, but still.

"I, uhm, there isn't .. I mean, there isn't .. I'm not married. Not even, uhm, dating, right now." He cannot believe he's admitting this embarrassing truth to the kid. When he manages to get the courage to look up, he's surprised to see that Peter looks a mix between horrified and pissed off.

"How is that even -possible-!? What kind of morons do you hang out with? You should be married in a cute house with all the happiness. All. Of. The. Happiness, Fog." 

"Thanks, Peter, but .. it's just a little complicated, you know?"

"It's not complicated, it's cray-cray. Why aren't you with someone?" Foggy walks over to Karen's desk and settles there with a sigh. They're supposed to be dancing, not talking about the mess that his life has become, you know? 

"Because .. no one really wants me. All my friends are .. flirtatious, I guess, but they only ever tease." He chews at his bottom lip for a moment, frowning down at the desk top as he wriggles uncomfortably in the chair. "The thing is .. I'm, like, -really- in love with someone, but .. it's ridiculous. Because there is no way in a million years that he would ever consider me." When Peter starts to interrupt, no doubt to try and feed him the kinds of lines he had used earlier, he quickly shakes his head. "No, I mean it, Peter. Every one wants him, he's gorgeous and sweet, with the biggest heart imaginable. I made the mistake of falling in love with the biggest hero I've ever known, my friend and, it just .. it could never work out. So, I'm single and not really looking." Before he can go on, he hrmphs as all the breath is knocked from his body because Peter is stretched uncomfortably across the desk top to give him a big, all encompassing hug. Foggy returns it with a little bit of a grin, before he untangles from the teen.

"Okay, enough of this depressing talk. We have to get you ready to wow Ned. Come on."

* * *

"Foggy?" Steve's voice pulls Foggy out of his hunched position where he's sitting on the couch, phone held close to his face as he reads a few messages from Peter. The kid is still nervous about the dance, despite the amount of progress they made in him learning to dance. They had covered both leading and following, so he would be prepared for whatever situation would make Ned nervous.

And he would be lying if he said that he didn't want to meet this kid that Peter's crazy for. He feels a sudden surge of paternal concern, but he stamps it down to look up from his phone and smile at Captain America.

"What's up, Steve?" His smile crumbles into a frown as he watches Steve shift uncomfortably. The superhero starts to sit next to Foggy, but seems to think differently and moves to sit across from him, instead.

"We, uh .. we need to talk. If you have a minute?" Foggy just nods, tucks his phone into his pocket and then leans forward, balancing his elbows on his knees.

"Sure man, I got time. What's up?" Steve seems to hesitate, that soft down turned brow and slightly broken smile he gets when something is wrong and he doesn't know how to address it, doesn't exactly bode well for Foggy.

"It, uhm .. well, something came to my attention, and I just .. I guess we need to talk about it." Okay .. that gives him absolutely -zero- information to work with ... and it also does little to abate the bad feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. "Bucky ... Bucky and me .. we're together." Foggy breathes an audible sigh of relief, and leans back, into the couch. 

"Well yeah, man, I already knew that." At the questioning look of disbelief, Foggy shrugs a single shoulder and glances down at his hands as he twines them in his lap. "I mean .. Bucky and I were talking and I kinda encouraged him to get the lead out and tell you how he feels, already." While he doesn't really have any expectations for how this conversation should go, he definitely didn't foresee Steve looking downright -angry- at this news. It wasn't as if Foggy had gone out of his way to interfere or anything!

"What ... you .. but -why-?? Why would you -do- that, Foggy?!" The accusation in Captain's tone actually hurts. It's a physical pain across his chest and he pushes himself to the very edge of the couch, frowning deeply.

"What do you mean, why? Why the hell do you think, Steve??" He huffs, puffs up his cheeks and chest in anger at the accusation that doesn't begin to make the first bit of sense to him. Is Steve somehow ... -angry- that he and Bucky are together? Did he only say yes out of obligation or fear of losing his friend? Because first Avenger or not, he will find a way to kick his perfect ass from one side of New York to the next if he's thinking of Bucky that way. "Because Bucky is my friend, and he was in pain. There .. there were a few things holding him back, from telling you how he feels and I just .. told him to go for it. You and Bucky make each other happy, there's no reason you shouldn't be together."

He wouldn't have thought it possible, but Steve looks even more gut-punched and wounded, yet so .. in -awe- of Foggy and he can't figure out why.

"You really are something else, Fog. Thank you .. for giving Bucky that push, despite everything." Steve's gone, practically jogging from the room before he can ask just what it is that he means.

* * *

The stand off with Matt continues. Every time he tries to speak to his friend, Matt putts in his earbuds or outright dismisses Foggy, and he is -really- getting tired of this. He has combed back through everything that has happened between them and he cannot find the moment when it all went wrong. Or, at least, -why- it all went wrong. It's painful, being separated from his best friend at the moment.

This strange war is the reason he went to see his sister.

Again.

It's the reason he's being jumped.

Again.

This time, however, he is .. well, not -prepared- for it, per se, but he's a little more on edge, so he doesn't go down like a sack of potatoes. In fact, he manages to dodge the first hit and punch the asshole in the face, breaking his nose. There is no small amount of satisfaction at hearing the crunch and wail of the bastard that would hurt him for no other reason than wanting something that doesn't belong to them.

"Sumbitch! M'n'se!" The words are garbled and jumbled as the thug tries to stop the free flow of blood, and Foggy would be doing a victory dance, if there weren't three other assholes bearing down on him. He barely manages to dodge a shot to the face, but one to his gut has him doubling over in pain.

"That's my brother you just maimed, bastard. I think we'll take it out of your hide." The ugly sneer that is hovering just on the edge of his blurred vision is one of the most terrifying things he's ever seen .. but it -still- doesn't stay his tongue.

"Maimed? Come on .. that's an improvement. Your brother's butt ugly." A second punch to the gut and his vision completely whites out for a second. His knees hit pavement and he can feel the tear of his pants, the scrape of concrete, and the sluggish well of blood. 

"I'd watch that mouth of yours, smartass, before it's put to other uses."

"Seriously? Again with the ass! What, do all you thugs get the same manual? Thug-speak for Dummies?" He has just enough time to cringe when he sees the blurry outline of a knee coming toward his face. His eyes snap shut and his breathing stops with a desperate inhale as he waits for the painful impact.

That never comes.

Instead, he hears the painful impact of two punches and a knee connecting. When he opens his eyes, he sees a flash of red and he nearly WHOOOTS in triumph. He is never going to lecture Peter again for this junior superhero crap!

Only, a moment later, he realizes it -isn't- Spider ** _kid_** .... no, given the snarling and amazing parkour abilities .... it's Daredevil. Somehow, despite how far out of Hell's Kitchen he is ... Daredevil has showed up to save him. Foggy would give anything to be able to kiss his best friend at this moment. 

However, he'd never be that silly and distracting at a time like this. Instead, he concentrates on managing to get himself to a standing position without throwing up. He sways lightly, wincing and groaning at the bruises he can already feel forming on his stomach. The Avengers are going to go CRAZY if he walks in injured again, but there's nothing to do for it. 

Because there's no way in hell he's going to stop leaving the Tower because he might get hurt.

"Foggy!" Matt's voice is one part desperate, one part afraid, and one part PISSED. "Are you -ever- capable of shutting up!?" Foggy flinches, as if gut-punched all over again. "Why is it you -always- pop off!? They could've -killed- you! How many times --"

"FOGGY!" The high-pitched, voice cracking squeak of his name takes him and Matt by surprise. Though Matt tenses and drops into a crouched position, ready to lunge when a figure barrels into Foggy, taking him to the ground. "I couldn't get here in time. I heard, and I tried, but my webbing was acting up and I couldn't ... I couldn't -get here- in time!" Foggy shivers at the feeling of tears against his skin, Peter apparently crying hard enough that they are soaking through his mask and into Foggy's neck, where his face is pressed desperately.

"Shh. It's okay. I'm fine. It's okay, kid." He wraps his arms tightly around the red-clad teen, cradling him as he waits for the kid to finish crying. Once the tears have begun to clear, he carefully gets them both to their feet. "Daredevil saved me. I really am fine." Spider ** _kid_** turns to look at Daredevil, the eyes of his mask narrowed as he takes in the other red superhero.

"Uhm, right. Daredevil, Spider ** _kid_**. Spider ** _kid_** , Daredevil."

"SpiderMAN. And thank you .. for saving Foggy." He's a little surprised that Peter has grabbed his sleeve and is refusing to let go. And yet, should he be? They have a weird sort of bond, after all.

"I wasn't just going to let Foggy die." Matt growls the words through gritted teeth and Foggy's heart must do something to give him away, because Matt immediately looks so .. stricken! "F-fog .. you can't ... you can't -believe- that I would .. let .. let something -happen-!" Again, his heart or breathing, or one of the many invasive things Matt can concentrate on must give him away because he makes a heartrending sound of pain that Foggy cannot even put a name to. "You .. you do think that. What .. why ... just -what-!?"

"It's not exactly as if you've been Mr. Friend lately, er, Daredevil. The last time we talked, you accused me of having bigger secrets than -you- and that's just impossible bullshit! I could -never- have a secret as big as yours! I don't keep secrets like those from you, because you're my best friend!" The hand on his sleeve suddenly tightens .. and then goes lax. 

" **O-oh**..." Peter makes a soft, awe-struck sound of understanding and it takes far too long for Foggy to cotton on to what the teen has just figured out. Matt 'looks' in Spider ** _kid_** 's direction, frowning deeply. No doubt trying to figure out what he's missing.

"Don't, P -- Spider ** _kid_**. Just don't. It's not .. it's not something to discuss here." Peter just sort of nods and reaches back out to grab Foggy's sleeve. At the same time, Matt pretty much loses it. He turns and punches the wall behind him, not making a single sound of pain before he's pointed back toward Foggy, chest heaving with seething rage.

"THAT, right THERE! You hid a secret bigger than any one I -ever- hid from you, Franklin! Given the kid's age .. you had to have known back when we first met, and you -never- rushed to tell me! And even if you're -just- now figuring it out, after all your lectures and talks about trust, you -still- didn't tell me!" Matt is practically vibrating with anger and Foggy has never really been scared of him before, but he knows what Matt is capable of, knows what happens when that Murdock temper gets raised and by some miracle he doesn't whimper. No, he's too confused and angry, really.

"What the -hell-, M--Daredevil! What are you even -talking- about?!"

"I'm talking about the fact that you have a SON and never TOLD ME!" Matt's hands ball into trembling fists as he screams those words and Foggy stumbles back a few steps. It's his reaction that set Peter off more than Matt's, or so he believes. Because in the next moment, Matt is plastered to the alley wall, held in place by thick webbing.

"Don't you talk to him that way!" Peter explodes angrily, wrists still raised and poised to shoot again. Foggy scrambles closer, grabbing his arm gently.

"Calm down, kid. Relax, please." He let his hand remain even as he turns slowly. Glares angry, betrayed daggers at Matt even if his friend can't fully appreciate the pissed expression. "As for you .. you honestly think me capable of this?? You think I would have a kid and -not- tell you!? Even back in college, I would've told you something like that, especially before we graduated. You are so .. so full of guilt for lying to me, for keeping things from everyone your entire life, that you think they can and -do- lie about everything! Well guess what, buddy? If I found out I had a kid, you would've been the -first- call I made. Even before my -mom-, and you -know- how she's been after me for the past few years. So just screw you, asshole!" 

"Foggy, I --" Foggy jerks his head and turns away from Matt, ready to take off.

"No. You don't get to say anything, Daredevil. You don't get to Foggy me anymore. Because this .. this was too much. I never kept those kinds of secrets from you. Spider ** _kid_** isn't my son, but he's a damn good young man and I'm very proud of him." When Matt starts to speak again, he nearly swallows his tongue when he feels the sticky oddness of webbing hitting his mouth to shut him up. 

"He said you don't get to talk." Foggy laughs, and it is mirthless, strained. Instead, he turns to Peter, pulls him into a tight hug.

"Thanks, kid. Just ... wait thirty minutes and then let him go, okay? I just .. I need time to go." He turns and speed walks from the air, Matt's muffled complaints following him.

* * *

Once Foggy is gone, Peter turns slowly to eye the web-covered superhero. His features are dark and dangerous beneath the mask and he actually thinks about yanking it off. However, the sound of Foggy chastising him in the back of his mind for being so foolish keeps him from doing that. It does not, however, keep him from giving the asshole a piece of his mind.

"I was a kid when I lost my parents. They died at the same time. I .. I can barely remember them. I was raised by my Aunt and Uncle and my Uncle died a few months ago .." Peter winces, because it still hurts. The death of his Uncle is a fresh wound that has barely begun to scab over. "I would love it if Foggy was my Dad. In fact, if I thought Aunt May was anywhere near his type, I'd be trying to push them together." He has the good grace to blush under his mask, but he doesn't retract the statement. Because he really does mean it. "But Foggy .. he's in love with someone ... not that I think they deserve him, but .. well, he's in love ..." He shakes his head to clear it, walking up to pull the webbing off Daredevil's mouth.

"Yeah, I know. He's head over heels for Captain America." Daredevil glares at him, and Peter can't help but roll his eyes under his mask.

"Oh my god, are you blind or something??" He blinks in surprise when the other superhero gives a full on hysterical laugh.

"If you only knew." Okay .. he doesn't have the brainpower to try and decode this particular brand of WTF. No, he's too worried about Foggy to care about this moron. So he huffs, and begins to carefully pull the webbing away.

"You're a moron. Foggy isn't in love with Captain America."

"Yes, he is. I heard him, kid. He's in love with the greatest hero he's ever known .. Captain America." Peter grunts, catches the older man as he falls, and then promptly punches him in the arm. Daredevil grits his teeth, but doesn't do or say anything.

"You really are an idiot. I mean .. the biggest idiot to ever idiot, man. He's not in love with Captain America. He's in love with his favorite superhero, who actually happens to be his really good friend, too. Why don't you think about that on your way home? And if you keep hurting him like this ... 'kid' or not, I will drop you from the side of a building." With that, Peter turns and webs away. He's a little worried ... because even -he's- not sure if he means it or not.

* * *

Foggy is sitting on the roof of the Tower, legs dangling over the ledge as he knocks back another beer. One look at him, and all of his friends had reluctantly backed off, leaving him to his own devices. Of course, it won't work forever, but that's okay. Because all he needs is enough time to drown his sorrows and come to terms with the fiery crash and burn of his friendship. The longest non-familial relationship he's ever had.

He downs his third glass of .. whatever it is he's drinking, missing the eel like mad, when he hears it. Despite how softly Peter lands, he's still instantly aware of the teenager's arrival.

"Di'cha let 'im go?" His words slur but it has little to do with the alcohol and more with overall emotional exhaustion.

"Yeah, I let him go. Told him off a little bit." Wow, Foggy's seen enough of the mask to know that the teen is looking sheepish. He waves a hand, and Peter is by his side immediately, settling on the ledge next to him. "I wasn't too mean or harsh or anything." Foggy just nods his head along, his eyes fluttering closed after a moment.

"I, uhm .. I told him .. that I would be really happy if you were my Dad, Foggy. I mean .. I don't really remember my parents, but you'd be an awesome Dad and I'd be honored to be your kid." Foggy nearly drops his glass in his fumbling attempt to put it to the side so that he can draw Peter against his side in a one-armed hug.

"You're pretty awesome yourself, Peter. I'd be damn proud to have Spiderman as my son." He squeezes the teen to him, eyes fluttering closed again.


End file.
